


The Depths of Loneliness

by Sapphic_Futurist



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blood and Injury, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Captain Hydra, Dark Steve Rogers, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Description of Trigger Warnings in the Endnote, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Heavy Angst, Hurt Tony Stark, M/M, Multi, Obsessive Behavior, Physical Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Violence, Soul Bond, Steve Rogers is Not Captain America, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26616394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphic_Futurist/pseuds/Sapphic_Futurist
Summary: Realization and relief exploded across his face as Stark pressed two fingers to his forehead and winced. “Steve! Fucking hell, I was really starting to worry you were dead. We’ve been looking for you for—well, you know how long we’ve been looking for you—what’s going on, where are we?”Steve crossed his arms over his chest and with a slight raise of his chin, nodded to Bucky. “Get him up.”Stark’s eyes went wide and Bucky relished the flash of sheer fear he saw there, gone as fast as it had come.“Steve,” Stark started again, with less certainty. “What’s going on. What—what are you wearing?”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 41
Kudos: 177
Collections: Stuckony Summer Stocking 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JimmieJive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JimmieJive/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [JimmieJive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JimmieJive/pseuds/JimmieJive) in the [stuckony_summer_stocking_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/stuckony_summer_stocking_2020) collection. 



> Oh Jimmie. What have I done here? Thank you for being one of the few (only?) people in this event to prompt for a Dark fic, specifically a Dark Steve. I hope you enjoy far too many words of a deeply possessive Steve and the men he loves more than anything else in this world. 
> 
> It was a pleasure to write this for you.
> 
> More detailed descriptions of chapter trigger warnings can be found in the endnotes. I acknowledge these warnings may still not be enough for some readers. Please feel free to connect with me via social media if you would like more information prior to reading, or if you would like to recommend additional tags for this story.
> 
> Thank you 3000 to [treesrambling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/treesramblings) for her tireless beta work and making this story what it was. Literally. There is no way this story would have turned out without her and I love her to pieces. 
> 
> Enjoy!

When the door to his quarters swung open and clattered against the wall, the Asset felt the vibration in his teeth. Light flooded the room to reveal a new recruit, just another HYDRA grunt with a trembling voice, already relying far too much on the white-knuckled grip on his baton.

“Come on, get up.” The grunt held the stick out in front of him as if the Asset wasn’t capable of reaching out and snapping it like a twig between his fingers. It would take next to nothing to circumvent the weapon, wrap his hand around the man’s throat, and let his fingers tighten over delicate skin and sinew until the man stopped breathing.

No matter; history had taught the Asset that the recruits who shook and trembled never lasted very long.

The Asset rolled to his feet with a dull thump of his boots against the floor and stood at attention. Protocol indicated two possibilities: the Asset would be escorted for a programming reset, or to a briefing for the newest mission.

“Ready to comply.”

“The Captain wants to see you. Let’s go.” The grunt turned on his heels and proceeded out of the room. A careless error; with his back turned, the Asset could kill him with all the effort it took to lift a finger. However, protocols dictated compliance, even as the edges of the programming from the Chair were beginning to fray. So, the Asset followed the man out of the room.

This was the longest he had gone without a wipe since HYDRA had remade him all those decades ago. The edges of his mind were unravelling. Memories that didn’t belong to him were working their way between compliance codes and mission parameters and the Asset experienced uncertainty. Fear. _Deviance._

His handler made no indication of when the next wipe would come, and the Asset had started to suspect alternative measures were being taken. Things had been changing since the capture of Captain America, and now the Asset was suspended in an animation more chilling than cryo, waiting for the axe to fall.

As the Asset followed the shivering, weak link of HYDRA down the corridor, he wondered who the Captain would be now. After weeks of torture, the Captain had finally broken and the Asset was no longer marched from his quarters daily to witness the proceedings.

Being tortured was second nature to the Asset, but observing the extreme techniques used against the Captain brought the same lingering horror as some of his missions. At times, the Asset had found himself desperate for the blank slate of the Chair, but it never came.

After the helicarrier, there had been a reluctance to place the Asset and the Captain in the same physical proximity. Instead, the Asset had been made to watch as HYDRA stripped Captain America of his stars and stripes while he screamed and pleaded.

Everyone pleaded for mercy in the end.

Sometimes, the Asset had sworn he could feel the Captain’s eyes burning into his own despite the protection of the two-way glass, screaming out _Bucky_ and reaching towards the Asset as he had endured physical beatings. The Captain healed faster than the blows could drive him to submit, and the Asset had wondered more than once why the good Captain had been spared the Chair. 

The Asset had broken in mere hours once they’d fastened him into the Chair, and Captain America was made from tougher stuff by far. Even still, he supposed, everyone broke in the end. A comforting constant, as routine as captivity, compliance and torture.

It might’ve been easier to kill the Captain than break him, but even faced with the mountain of stacked odds, HYDRA saw the Captain’s value. The Captain was a survivor, the serum and enhancements coursing through his veins the key to more secrets than the Asset cared to contemplate, and perhaps that alone was justification against reducing him to a mere machine. The Captain had a different value.

A baton prodding into his waist brought the Asset back to focus and he growled a warning, casting a blank look over the grunt who pulled his hand away with a flinch. “Move.”

At the end of the hallway, his current handler stood at attention outside of the Captain’s new accommodations.

“Sir,” the Asset acknowledged, tipping his chin and waiting for orders. Behind him, the grunt’s quick footsteps scurried away down the hallway and the Asset wondered if he would see the pathetic runt again.

“Soldier. Current parameters voided. The Captain has requested you and will provide you with new parameters at his discretion. It would serve you well to comply until that time.” The handler tossed a hand towards the door with a curt gesture and the haunting drone of _ready to comply_ echoed in the back of the Asset’s mind.

So, this had been the grand scheme.

Captain HYDRA would need all of his mental faculties in order to reach his full potential and he would need the Asset if he was to successfully take down the Avengers. This would not be the first time the Asset had been presented as a gift, and he knew the role well enough. Attack dog, protector, even a warm place to stick a cock—the Asset would become whatever the Captain required.

Failure of any kind was out of the question.

As he stepped over the threshold, the Asset wondered what else had been promised, whispered into the Captain’s ear when he was scrambling on bloodied hands and barely conscious on the floor. Something must have been worth swearing his allegiance to HYDRA.

He’d already been warned that the Captain was a harsh man, wholly dissimilar from the target the Asset had captured weeks prior. Perhaps once Captain America had been shown that life was worth nothing—when he’d been stripped down to the very foundation of his soul—he’d come to find his bastion of morality was worthless.

The Asset wondered if it had been a surprise, a self-revelation, to realize that the Captain’s commitment to goodness was just the mirror image of his desire to conquer, to dominate, to _survive_.

The Asset braced himself for the Captain’s iron fist and prepared himself for the inevitable take over of his functioning. Between missions and the Chair, the Asset’s life was already a reduction of tedious routines: provide the body with substance, maintain physical capacities, obtain required maintenance, complete provided missions without failure. A change in activity might have been intriguing, if _change_ didn’t indicate new protocols burned into his skull and _intriguing_ didn’t mean unending agony.

Except, when the handler cleared his throat, the Captain looked up, and something… _unanticipated_ occurred, subverting all of the Asset’s expectations. The Captain turned from behind his new desk, and the profile of his face contorted into the same unsettling familiarity from the helicarrier.

“Bucky?” the Captain breathed in a harsh whisper, crossing the room and reaching out a hand to touch the Asset’s face. The Asset was marched forward into the endless grey of the base’s nerve centre until skin met skin and the protocol to pull away from physical touch dissolved from his mind.

The Captain remembered him, or remembered who he could have been once. If the Asset had really been a person before he’d been reduced to this killing machine. 

Standing there, stock still and eyes forward, the Asset kept his mouth shut.

“Bucky, what did they do to you?” Captain HYDRA trailed a hand along his cheek, dragging his thumb along the edge of the Asset’s jaw and sending a shiver down his spine. The Asset was rewarded with a flash of something too fleeting to be called a memory. There was only a whisper of blond hair on top of a small pile of bones wrapped in translucent skin, with bright, shining blue eyes.

The same eyes that were boring into his now, but altered in a way that made them dull and dark. _Defeated_.

“The Asset has retained no memories of his prior self, Captain. An… unfortunate side effect of the methods used to ensure his continued compliance. With time, he regains some of his memories, but the Chair results in a reset. The trigger words will do this as well, to an extent,” the Asset’s handler said before the Asset—Bucky?—could reply.

That only served to deepen the Captain’s frown and the hand on the side of his face tightened into a bruising grip on his jaw, forcing the Asset’s face upward until they were sharing the same air. Warm, recycled breaths slid inside his mouth, heating the Asset in a way that felt simultaneously foreign and familiar. A mixture of fear and something unsettling— _longing_ , a whisper in the back of his mind supplied—rippled through the bottom of his belly.

“Leave us,” the Captain snapped to the handler.

“Sir—”

“ _Now_.” The quiet order sent a shiver of fear down the Asset’s spine and the Captain must have noticed, because his eyes narrowed and his mouth pressed into a firm line. Behind him, the handler was retreating, but the Asset didn’t dare turn to watch him flee.

When the door slammed shut, they were alone.

The Captain released the Asset’s jaw and returned to the massive desk that filled the centre of the room with the grace of a soldier. The desk had been stained a deep brown, almost black as if it had been made to match everything else about the Captain, himself dressed in black armour with the blood red symbol of HYDRA adorning his broad chest.

Standing rooted to the spot, the Asset watched the Captain settle himself against the edge of the desk, leaning back to examine him from a distance, and the Asset felt exposed, the way he felt when the handlers stripped him bare and pried off the pieces of his arm to poke and prod at the inner mechanisms. The way that it felt when they’d been inside him, stealing away every secret he had left.

The Asset was as exposed as the day they’d broken him.

“Come here, Bucky.”

The Asset stepped across the room in quick strides, an automaton to the orders being issued, and came to a halt before the Captain, eyes downcast and trained to the glaring tips of his black combat boots. There was tension in the air, thick and palpable, singing of promises the Asset wasn’t certain he wanted.

“Look at me.” The Asset snapped his gaze up. “You don’t remember me.”

“No.”

“Sir.” The Captain gave him an even look. “No, _sir._ ”

“No, sir.”

For what felt like minutes, the Captain just stared at him. There was something calculating in his gaze, a rivulet of ice at war with something the Asset wasn’t privileged to. The Captain looked at him as if he wanted to devour him whole and cut him limb from limb at the same time, though the latter would be a mercy that the Asset hardly deserved. 

Even when he had begged for death, all those years ago, no HYDRA operative, handler or Captain alike, would offer him such a reprieve. Not with the value he possessed. 

With the crease in his forehead deepening, the Captain ran a contemplative hand across his face. The Asset waited in silence. There was always so much silence.

When the Captain finally spoke, the velvet of his tone took the Asset off guard. “You’re going to be alright now, Buck. They said I could keep you.”

“Keep me, sir?”

“Yes. You may not remember, but I do. We were soulmates once, Bucky, and now we’re here, together again. That can’t be a coincidence.” The Captain gave him a twisted smile, with none of the softness the Asset had seen in his brief jaunts into the world, where lovers gazed into each other’s eyes and offered secret, shy smiles. Where soulmates were something more than what waited for him in the darkness of a HYDRA base he’d called home for decades. “I’ll keep you and you’ll be safe.”

“Soulmates?” The Asset echoed, glancing down at his left wrist where his soulmark would have been once. His first handler, the one who had broken him, had told him his soulmate was dead. That HYDRA had hunted him down across the world and snapped his neck, no more than a mere second, snuffing out the life from the other half of the Asset’s soul.

And without a soul, what need did he have for anything else?

The pain became a constant. A kindness, creating a physical manifestation of the devastation that churned in a part of him he had no name for, in this daydream where he walked the line between life and death, half of a whole. Incomplete.

Until now.

“Soulmates,” the Captain nodded, a smile teasing at the edge of his lips. “You’ll remember. I’ll help you, and you’ll help me. Together, we’ll be something remarkable. Transcendent.”

The Captain reached out and put his hand on the Asset’s face again, gripping the edge of his jaw with a possessiveness that the Asset imagined should make him feel owned in a very different way than he was familiar with. This wasn’t about possessing him and turning him into something else. This was the love that the handlers spoke of in their taunts and jeers. The fairy tales he had told himself once upon a time.

This was his soulmate, gazing into his eyes, holding him close. 

Wasn’t it?

“Whatever you like,” The Asset said, voice soft. As his mouth moved, the Captain’s thumb dug into his jaw and slurred the words. “Sir.”

“Good. You deserve so much better, Bucky. I promise, I’ll keep you safe. No more wiping, no more trigger words. We’ll be together and everything will be okay.” Then, softer, with an air of a place Bucky had lived once, “ain’t that right, pal?” 

The promises trickled down the Asset’s spine with the same cooling sensation as the Captain’s empty smile. Before the Asset could say anything more, the Captain leaned in towards him and pressed dry, chapped lips against his own.

Images swirled behind the Asset’s—Bucky’s—eyelids, hazy memories trapped in shadows, of the small, lithe man that must have been the Captain in their other life underneath him. Half on top of him, perpetually cold fingers exploring his ribs as if searching for invisible injuries on every inch of Bucky’s skin. It wasn’t hard to imagine that they had been lovers once.

The new information struggled through his filters. Bucky had had something more than the life of a mindless assassin. Bucky had been someone.

The Captain slid his tongue along Bucky’s lips, demanding entrance. When he parted his lips, the Captain surged forward, fisting his hand in the harsh fabric of Bucky’s combat gear and tugged him closer. His other hand snaked down between Bucky’s legs and cupped him roughly through his pants, making him jerk. 

It felt wrong, too soon. Too much like all the hands that had been on him before, back when he’d had one arm and a hope of escape. Back when he’d been less than nothing.

Fitting that those were the memories that remained with him.

Bucky squirmed away from the touch. Soulmate or no, it was too much. It was invasive, and Bucky had been possessed by too many people. Not this time. Not this man who was a stranger and the other half of himself all at once.

“Relax.” The Captain slid a loving hand up his chest, curling around the meat of his shoulder to rest on the nape of his neck. When Bucky couldn’t relax, couldn’t stop pulling away to put distance between their bodies again, the Captain tangled his hand in Bucky’s long hair and yanked. His head was forced up, and the Captain’s gaze went hard again.

“Sir?” Bucky gasped in a breath and resisted the urge to wrap his metal hand around the Captain’s wrist and squeeze until he felt bones break. Until the Captain released him, as if he had any right to touch him this way. Bucky was the prized Asset of HYDRA. That had to matter for something.

“I told you to relax. We’re soulmates, Buck. You have to trust me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He tried to keep quiet and follow the instructions as they were given, but images of being curled around a shaking, boney body with icicles for toes pressed against his own under layers of blankets tormented him. This wasn’t how it had been. This wasn’t what he remembered.

“Please,” Bucky gasped out before he could stop it and he waited for the oncoming blow.

But the Captain just froze and pulled back, creating a space between them that wrapped around Bucky’s throat and squeezed in a brand new way entirely. Stepping around him, the Captain examined him as if he were a prized subject, nothing more than a lab experiment. 

When he came to a halt again in front of Bucky, he clapped a hand down on his shoulder. 

“Of course,” he said, “you were always the romantic. I understand and I can wait. It’ll be worth it that way and I want you to remember. I want you to know that when you’re with me, you’re with _me._ I want Bucky, not the Winter Soldier.”

How long had Bucky waited to hear those words? A lifetime.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Steve,” the Captain corrected. “When it’s just the two of us, together, call me Steve. You called me Stevie once. Punk, too.” The Captain—Steve—gave him a quirk of his lips. “I don’t suppose you remember what you used to say to me?”

Bucky shook his head. “No?” 

“ _‘Til the end of the line_ , you’d say. That’s how long we’d be together.” Steve took a step back into his space, and this time the arm on his shoulder slid down to wrap around him. Before Bucky realized, he was being wrapped into a hug. Steve was _holding_ him.

His body relaxed into the foreign touch. “Soulmates.”

“Yeah, Buck. Soulmates.”

* * *

Before too long, it was clear that the Captain—Steve—had given Bucky a gift and he was being ungrateful. The thought plagued him as he stumbled his way through this new life with a mind of his own and some semblance of free will.

A week had passed and Steve had stuck by his promises. No more wipes, no more trigger words, so Bucky regained more and more of his memories and his former self every day. He remembered chasing after Steve’s skinny ass, trying to keep him out of trouble. He remembered Steve curled up in their bed at night, pressing his face against Bucky’s bare chest while Bucky held his breath and tracked Steve’s unsteady breathing, wracked with fear that if he let himself sleep he’d miss the one that might be Steve’s last.

He remembered dancing with dames and kissing men in back alleys. He remembered what fucking was supposed to be, how it felt to be held close and warm inside the heat of another’s body.

But Bucky never remembered any of those memories with Steve.

“They’ll come,” Steve promised, when Bucky worked up the courage to ask over dinner one evening. 

And wasn’t that something remarkable. Dinner.

Steve had moved Bucky into his accommodations the day Bucky had been given to him, storing his meager things—nothing more than clothes and weapons—in little pockets of Steve’s bedroom. At night, Bucky slept in Steve’s bed with the man’s naked body pressed up against his back, waking to an erection poking between his ass cheeks but never demanding more.

Steve was being more than patient. Steve was giving him everything he had ever wanted, or had ever thought to want.

And Bucky was being ungrateful.

“I just wish I remembered.” Bucky shifted in his chair, uneasy as he traced patterns in his now cold pasta.

“You’ve been wiped over forty times, Bucky, not including the countless times they’ve said your words. You’re being too hard on yourself.”

“It’s not fair. I remember others, just not you. Why don’t I remember you?”

Steve set his plate aside, pushing it into the centre of the table where it was a hairbreadth away from clinking against Bucky’s own. Bucky watched as he carefully folded his hands into his lap, and met his eye directly.

“Would you like me to remind you?”

Bucky swallowed. He was being ungrateful. _No_. “Yes, please.”

Steve pushed back from the table and Bucky waited in his seat until Steve had rounded the corner and offered him his hand. Placing his metal fingers in Steve’s warm, flesh ones, Bucky let himself be led back down the corridors of the HYDRA base and into the set of rooms that belonged to Captain HYDRA. Something about the moment had Bucky thinking of lambs being led to slaughter, but he pushed that away, because Steve was his soulmate.

Steve had been his soulmate for almost a century. It was a gift that they had even been reunited, after all. Even when he found himself questioning why here—why was this the place Steve had chosen for them to reunite, Bucky did his best to trust in Steve’s judgement. Steve had given him so much already, he must know more than Bucky could understand yet.

When they crossed their rooms and Steve led him into the bedroom, he left Bucky standing a few feet from the bottom of the bed and sat down on the overstuffed mattress, sinking into the plush depth with his legs parted and feet planted flat on the floor.

“Take off your clothes for me, sweetheart.”

Steve all but leered at him from the bed and, with arms that didn’t belong to his body, Bucky peeled back layer after layer, eyes trained on Steve’s black pupils, until he was bare to his boxers. The urge to cover himself came on as strong as ever, but the movements had been beaten out of Bucky a long time ago. A flash of batons cracking across his back, forcing their way inside him, surfaced, and Bucky shook it away.

Steve was his soulmate. 

“You’ve always been beautiful, Bucky. Always. I could look at you all day.” Steve smiled at him and Bucky forced a smile back. “Come here.”

Bucky walked closer, stepping into the circle of Steve’s arms until he was standing between his spread legs, Steve’s knees bumping against the outside of his own.

“Closer. Here,” Steve pulled Bucky forward until he was on his lap, legs spread wide across his hips.

The thick line of Steve’s cock pressed into the jut of Bucky’s hip as Bucky straddled him and he realized he wasn’t hard. Steve’s hands ran over his bare back and down his spine and he remembered, just for a moment, the feeling of warm hands that belonged to the mechanic across from their Brooklyn apartment tracing the same path. It had felt so good then, little sparks of electricity flickering through his body and lighting him up from the inside until he was stiff in his pants in moments. 

But not now, and Steve had noticed, too. He frowned. “What do you want, Buck? Tell me and it’s yours.”

“I—” To be let go. To crawl into bed and have Steve hold him and whisper into his ear that he loved him and that they were meant to be together. To give him time to adjust and remember. To let him put his clothes back on. “Kiss me. I want to remember us, Stevie.”

Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck and then Steve was leaning in, capturing his mouth in a gentle, easy kiss that made Bucky melt by a fraction. Yes, that was okay. He could want this. 

Bucky opened his mouth, kissing Steve back, letting his tongue dance across Steve’s lips. The broken sounds of Steve’s soft moaning into his mouth finally stirred something in Bucky’s belly and his cock started to wake up between his thighs.

Bucky threaded fingers through Steve’s hair and tipped his head back to take more, kissing him deeper. He relied on thready memories, flashes of sensation as he slipped his tongue into someone else’s mouth and chased after their taste. It felt good to take, to suck Steve’s tongue into his mouth and have control over the kiss. Bucky kept kissing him, curling closer. 

When Steve abruptly pulled back, a knot curled between his blond eyebrows.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky whispered against his lips.

“This isn’t you, Bucky. This wasn’t—no, it’s alright, hold on,” Steve’s arms clamped down when Bucky started to pull back. He was screwing this up already. “You just don’t remember. You always belonged to me and you were so giving, the way you surrendered. Let me show you.”

Then Steve was diving back in, showing Bucky the way. Teaching him what it meant to be kissed with fierce possession as Steve thrusted his tongue into Bucky’s mouth, biting down on his bottom lip. Steve took from Bucky as he kissed him, stealing his breath and then stealing a drop of his blood when his teeth bit through the top layers of skin, and Bucky held back a grunt.

He tried. Bucky really tried to be good.

“That’s better,” Steve said eventually, when he’d had his fill. “Now, why don’t you remind us both what you can really do with that mouth, huh, pal?”

Steve pushed him back, and Bucky slid down onto his knees on the floor. Untying one boot and then the other, Bucky tossed them aside across the room. Together they got Steve out of his uniform pants and a pair of crisp black boxers before Steve was fisting himself at the base of his cock. It was thicker than half the batons that Bucky was used to, thicker than all the cocks he had taken before by far, and he swallowed, mouth dry and tacky.

“Don’t you want to remember?” Steve asked, his voice sweet and almost cajoling. “You used to love this, doing this for me. I’ve done a lot for you, Bucky. Thank you for returning the favour.”

Then he pushed Bucky’s head down and Bucky stopped thinking.

Steve fucked his mouth as gently as he kissed him, shoving deep into the back of his mouth until Bucky was gagging, gripping his hair to keep him still. The sheer violence in the way that Steve took him left Bucky trembling, as if Steve wanted to tear his bones from beneath his skin and suck out the marrow, leaving him bereft and empty. 

Bucky felt hollow already and said a silent prayer for the saliva that formed in his mouth, easing the glide and hiding his displeasure as Steve thrust up into his mouth again. 

“That’s _perfect_ , just like that, Bucky. God, I love you. I’ve missed you so much,” Steve groaned between hitched breaths and the steady rolling of his hips.

Spit trickled down Bucky’s chin, dripping off and onto the mattress between Steve’s thighs. As Bucky choked around a particularly vicious pump, Steve reached between them and brought one of Bucky’s hands between his legs, urging Bucky to cup and roll the Captain’s balls in his hands. When he tugged gently, applying a hint of pressure to the pleasure, Steve forced himself all the way into Bucky’s throat and held him there.

The air rushed out of his lungs and Bucky struggled to draw a breath that wouldn’t come. Panic rushed in, twisting tightly in his belly and chasing away his arousal. He choked, gagged, and willed himself not to struggle. He didn’t want to mess this up.

“Ah,” Steve warned, finally releasing his grip on the back of Bucky’s head when his fingers twitched open and his grip on Steve’s balls was lost. “That’s better, not too tight, sweetheart.”

 _It was an accident, please don’t_ , he wanted to say as Steve forced himself back into his throat again, rubbing his windpipe raw and setting a brutal pace as he raced towards climax.

_At least it isn’t the baton. At least he isn’t going to wipe you after. At least later he’ll hold you and tell you he loves you._

Bucky closed his eyes and tried to focus on the rhythm of Steve’s cock in his mouth, tasting the bitter spurts of precome that flecked across his tongue when he ran it under the head. It went on for what felt like forever until Steve was gasping and groaning out mixtures of Bucky’s name and whispered endearments. The sweet words were a loving contrast to the way he abused and wrecked the back of Bucky’s throat.

When Steve finally pressed in deep again, Bucky choked around the thick streams of come as Steve shook through his orgasm. Steve’s release filled his mouth and Bucky spilled over onto the mattress, onto Steve’s thick, shaking thighs, and gasped. And when he was done, Steve pulled him back by his hair and forced his face lower until Bucky got with the program and started to lap at the come and spittle mixed together on his legs.

It was over. 

Bucky drew a shaky breath.

“That was perfect, Bucky, just like I remembered. Thank you. I love you so much, Buck.” Steve offered praise that felt meaningless as he tugged Bucky back up onto his lap and shoved a hand inside his boxers. Steve fisted him rough and fast, dry enough that the burn of chafing lit up his groin as Steve forced painful pleasure out of Bucky’s body.

His half-hard cock jumped back to full mast at Steve’s unrelenting strokes and for half a second Bucky wondered if his cock wanted this to end as desperately as his brain did. Bucky closed his eyes and gripped Steve’s shoulders, careful not to dig his metal fingers in too hard. His body was so tense that when the tremors started to run up his arms and into his shoulders, sweat trickled down the back of his neck and he thought he wouldn’t get there.

And if he didn’t come, what would the Captain do then? Bucky wasn’t prepared to find out.

“Look at you, you’re shaking,” Steve cooed. “Come on, sweetheart. Let go for me. Come, Bucky. Come. Now.” Steve picked up the pace, jerking Bucky off as tears burned behind his eyelids. It was only a matter of time, his body responding without reserve to the harsh glide of Steve’s hand on his cock.

Bucky groaned and let his forehead drop to Steve’s shoulder as he shivered through his orgasm. _It wasn’t the worst you’ve had. Ungrateful. Always so ungrateful_.

Before the aftershocks had finished, Steve tugged Bucky’s head back from the hollow of his throat and held up his come-streaked hand with a whispered _suck_.

Steve groaned and swallowed heavily as Bucky’s tongue teased between his fingers. A brief flicker of fear curled in the bottom of Bucky’s belly when he felt Steve twitching anew against his thigh. He couldn’t do this again, not so soon, not like this. But Steve remained silent, not saying anything more, just running both his hands through Bucky’s hair.

He kissed him gently on the forehead as if Bucky were a child. As if he couldn’t bear to taste either of them mixing together on Bucky’s lips.

“Do you remember now?”

 _No_. “It was better than I remember,” Bucky said, voice soft with a forced, reverent awe as he pressed their foreheads together and closing his eyes.

“Come on, come up here.” Steve shifted upward on the bed, taking Bucky with him until he maneuvered him into a tight curve, bodies arcing together like crescent moons. As they laid there together, Steve stroked a hand up and down Bucky’s side, running it through his hair and gently pulling apart the tangles where his fingers caught.

“Steve?”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“I’m cold.” _Numb._

Steve pulled the blanket up over them both, wrapping his arm tighter around Bucky’s chest and pulling him back into Steve’s warmth. The sea of warring emotions battling in Bucky’s mind grew louder with every soft touch, every whisper of a caress on his skin. With his face safely tucked into the pillow, Bucky felt fresh tears leak from his eyes. Everything felt wrong and nothing made sense.

“I love you, Bucky.”

Bucky cleared his scratchy throat. “I love you too, punk.”

* * *

After that first time, things improved for Bucky. He went on fewer missions because Steve preferred to keep him close. He rarely hurt; his arm was subjected to regular maintenance and upkeep, and fewer missions means fewer injuries to recover from. The few abrasions he did accumulate were treated promptly, with thick rolls of gauze and the occasional soft kiss from Steve’s lips.

Bucky could sit in the shower for an hour and no one disturbed him, sifting through the memories that appeared between the holes in his swiss cheese brain, and no one questioned him. He didn’t think that Steve noticed how he hid there in the evening, stealing moments away to himself where he could breathe and let himself relax.

Steve had become a constant presence in his life over the past few weeks, always watching, always close by.

There appeared to be no rhyme or reason to Steve’s behaviour. Some days he pampered Bucky, drawing him baths and working suds into his hair. When he was through, Steve dried him carefully, running a brush through the wet mass of tangles until it was smooth and could be pulled into a tight braid. Steve kissed the back of his neck, brushing the stray hairs away from his face, and led him with sparkling eyes back towards their bedroom.

Their bedroom... where he used the braid as something akin to a leash, tugging and pulling as he forced Bucky onto his knees on the bed and fucked him raw.

Other days he fucked him first, tying Bucky down or stringing him up, never hitting him with anything more than a hand, but a slap from Captain HYDRA stung worse than any crop he’d taken across his back before. It didn’t take long to learn that Steve liked it when he begged. When he pleaded and whimpered and was vocal in his pleasure, so he indulged him as best he could, and when it was over, Steve would rub soft smelling creams into his welts and feed him bites of plums.

The sour skin and sweet inner flesh of the fruit mocked him.

Steve cooked for him, kept him safe when they went out together for recon, held him at night and whispered that he loved him over and over again, as if any moment could be the last.

Then he started talking about another man.

“You would have liked him, Buck,” Steve said over breakfast one morning, a cup of coffee suspended halfway between the table and his lips. “He had this amazing mind, you know? Always working on something, always creating something. I’d bet my last dollar that he could build you an arm that would spin circles around that one.”

“Sounds like a miracle worker.” Indulge him, keep him happy, whatever he wants. It had become something of a mantra, starting and ending with the day only to repeat the following morning. There had been the odd day when Bucky had been out of sorts, moody and withdrawn, and Steve had felt he needed to be punished.

It wasn’t any comparison to the punishment his handlers had doled out in the past, so Bucky could still count himself lucky. Lucky enough to have a soulmate willing to keep him in check. 

A soulmate willing to love someone little more than a machine, and sometimes machines broke down. Sometimes machines needed maintenance.

“We’d be unstoppable, with him on our side.”

Buck considered this. “Would he come willingly?”

Steve paused, head lilting side to side in contemplation as he swallowed what appeared to be a searing mouthful of black coffee. Bucky winced at the sight, nudging a pile of scrambled eggs around his plate. His appetite had faded in recent days, but he did what he could.

“Doubtful. But perhaps he could be persuaded.”

“We all see the light eventually, don’t we?” Bucky asked, trying to hide the edge in his voice. Steve may have come willingly in the end, but Bucky had fought tooth and nail. Steve was the only reason worth staying. Without Steve… what else was there? 

And Steve believed in HYDRA and what they could do to usher in a new era, so Bucky stayed.

Which was how Bucky found himself, just a few short weeks later, a mind full of Avengers recon, scouting outside the Tower for an opportunity to ambush the famed Iron Man. Steve had argued it wasn’t enough just to have the man, they required his technology, too, and he had every faith that Bucky could disable and retrieve the suit and its eccentric pilot.

It was the first solo mission Bucky had been on since being gifted to the Captain, and he wasn’t prepared to let him down.

He watched as Iron Man soared through the sky and bit back a hiss of malice.

What was so special about the man in a metal box? Steve spoke of him with an intense regularity now, filling their days with talk of new technology and sharp humour, a surprising generosity, and perverse overindulgence. And when he spoke, he would get this look in his eyes, far away, as if caught in a dream.

Bucky knew that look. He’d seen it in his own face once upon a time.

For the most part he could bear it, but when Steve talked about Stark when they were in bed together, Steve holding his face down into the mattress and telling him to picture it, all three of them together, Bucky wanted to disappear. Steve groaned on about the way that Stark’s mouth would look wrapped around Bucky’s cock while he rode Steve, how Bucky and Stark would take care of their Captain together. Bucky had no desire to share his soulmate, and it was disgusting to think about another set of foreign hands on his body, Captain’s pet or no.

Did people talk like this with their soulmates? Bucky didn’t know. He imagined they must, because Steve talked about it like it was the most natural thing in the world, and everything would end that much quicker when Steve was muttering about Stark as he drove into the depths of Bucky’s body.

Maybe once they had him, things would change. Either way, it would always be better than before. 

Bucky was being ungrateful.

He lifted his finger to the trigger and trained his scope on the blast of red and gold rocketing through the sky. When he was clear of the Tower and within the target zone, Bucky fired a single blast and watched as the Iron Man suit flickered, repulsors stuttering, and plummeted to the ground.

Steve would be so pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings
> 
> Please note this is a generic trigger warning for non-con and extreme dub-con for all five chapters and these themes are present in all five chapters.
> 
> This chapter specifically contains triggers for the following:  
> 1) Mentions of Physical Torture – the Asset reflects on both his experiences of torture and what he knows has happened to create Captain HYDRA.  
> 2) Psychological Torture/Manipulation – Steve manipulates Bucky about their past and to coerce him into sexual acts.   
> 3) Choking – Steve chokes Bucky during oral sex.


	2. Chapter 2

It took a while for Stark to regain consciousness.

Steve paced, restless outside the cell door while Bucky sat just inside, watching and waiting for Stark to open his eyes. He’d shucked his gloves and jacket and the dirty shirt that was still clinging to his chest was streaked with the red kaleidoscope of Stark’s blood. The cut from above Stark’s eyebrow had only recently stopped bleeding.

Bucky didn’t know what Steve wanted from this man, even after all this time. Not really.

By the time Stark wound up in their possession, Bucky was half-mad with resentment. Stark was simply another person to occupy his soulmate’s attention, stealing Bucky’s focus from centre stage. It wasn’t fair, not after everything he’d been through to finally be in this place with Steve. 

Even still, there were whispers in the back of Bucky’s mind that told him something wasn’t right. That Steve wasn’t right. 

But Steve meant survival and glimpses of love so Bucky kept his mouth shut and his eyes forward. If Stark made Steve happy, well, a happy handler had never steered Bucky wrong before.

Stark jerked awake, smashing his head against the wall with a grunt of pain.

The cut at his eyebrow cracked open again as he squinted into the muted light. A fresh trickle of blood slid down around the corner of his eye, dripping onto his chest.

“What the fuck?” Stark hissed into the darkness, scrambling backwards against the wall as if that would keep him safe. As if anything about this place was safe. Bucky held his breath as Stark squinted at the cell door.

Realization and relief exploded across his face as Stark pressed two fingers to his forehead and winced. “Steve! Fucking hell, I was really starting to worry you were dead. We’ve been looking for you for—well, you know how long we’ve been looking for you—what’s going on, where are we?”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and with a slight raise of his chin, nodded to Bucky. “Get him up.”

Stark’s eyes went wide and Bucky relished the flash of sheer fear he saw there, gone as fast as it had come.

“Steve,” Stark started again, with less certainty. “What’s going on. What—what are you wearing?”

For a so-called genius, Stark was taking his time putting two and two together. A cocktail of emotions blended across his face; alarm, mixing together with uncertainty and disbelief, and landing finally on betrayal.

Steve didn’t answer, and Bucky reached down to haul Stark up by his arm.

The tattered pile of Stark’s flight suit had pooled across his lap, leaving his chest and arms bare. As Bucky reached for him, Stark jerked back and narrowly avoided his grasp, his mouth twisting into a snarl. Rougher than necessary, Bucky muttered under his breath as he gripped his flesh hand around Stark’s bicep and wrenched him to his feet. 

Stark gasped and almost went limp, shock overtaking everything else on the canvas of his face. 

Bucky’s vision blurred at the edges and he bit back a groan at the explosion erupting in the back of his mind.

He met Stark’s terrified eyes and everything fell into place.

 _His soulmate_. This was his soulmate. But then, what—

Bucky rounded on Steve, whose lips were pulled back into a sad, twisted excuse for a smile as he pushed the cell door shut. The rattle of metal echoed down the hallway as Bucky stalked up to the bars, reaching out with his metal fist to snap the lock clean off.

Something held him back.

The fingers of his left hand twitched wildly against his palm and Bucky watched, horrified as his arm short-circuited and the pieces that connected at his elbow locked into place. The arm became little more than a gruesome twist of metal, hanging limp from his shoulder and tugging down on the muscles of his neck and pectoral.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Steve?” Bucky glared through the bars. Steve’s smile widened.

“It’s simple,” Steve said with a flippant demeanour that set Bucky’s blood boiling. “Before the war, I couldn’t have you. After the ice, I couldn’t have him,” Steve gestured towards Stark, still collapsed on the floor with wide eyes. “Now you’re both here. Together.”

In the back of his mind, the new bond pulsed with fear and agonizing pain. Stark’s shoulder was on fire where Bucky had almost disconnected it from the socket in his effort to get him to stand. Stark’s vision was blurry and his head throbbed, leaving Bucky with the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

“Steve, this isn’t you—”

Bucky cut Stark off. “You’re a liar,” he hissed through the bars, slamming his good hand against the rails then reaching through them even as Steve stepped back and out of his grasp.

“And you’re a fool,” Steve snapped, relaxing into parade rest. “Get him up and bring him over here. Now.”

Bucky glared, a fresh rush of dread that belonged to both Stark and himself rushing along his nerve endings. Behind him, Stark was shuffling around and getting to his feet, crossing the damp floor on unsteady legs until he was just behind Bucky.

“What’s with the crappy accommodations, Cap? HYDRA get their funding cut this year? I mean, I have to assume that’s what’s happening here, right? With that whole freaky octopus thing.” Stark gestured blithely to the blood-red symbol in the middle of Steve’s uniform.

Bucky let out a low sound of warning. “Stark—”

“I’ve missed you Tony,” Steve interrupted, coming back up to the bars as Bucky shot his arm out and forced Stark back behind him. “For what it’s worth.”

“For what it’s worth,” Stark echoed, shaking his head and Bucky could feel his disbelief. “Christ, Steve, what’s happened to you? We were coming for you. _I_ was coming for you."

“Really? It’s been months. Not that it really matters, now. You were holding me back, Tony. All of you were and I don’t know why it took me so long to realize I was playing for the losing team.” Steve shook his head, shaking loose any cobwebs of regret and doubt. Bucky doubted Steve even knew the meaning of those emotions anymore.

“That’s a lie and you know it. What did they do to you? What the fuck happened?” Stark’s voice jumped a few decibels and Bucky flinched, all but gaping at him. 

Didn’t Stark know who he was dealing with?

Steve tipped his head to the side, a mockery of understanding and sympathy. “I’m sure it’s a bit of a shock but let’s be honest: I’ve always known what you thought. What was the last thing you said to me? That I was ‘too stubborn to be of any use’? Maybe you were right.”

“I was angry! You know I didn’t mean that!” A new sound wedged its way into Stark’s voice, a desperate little thing Bucky knew well. “I know you know that’s not true.”

For a brief moment, Bucky got a glimpse of the Captain America Stark knew, standing proud and golden in the hazy backdrop of Stark’s memories.

A wash of deep respect, admiration, and something that felt painfully close to love consumed him, and Bucky was frozen in place, as effective as his stump of an arm. A mere spectator to the conversation happening around him.

“For a while, I’m not sure what I believed.” It might be the first honest thing Bucky’s ever heard from Steve’s lips. “But you know what I think? I think it’s been HYDRA from the beginning and I was just too stubborn to see it.”

“It wasn’t. Christ, Steve! It was never HYDRA. Do you hear me? _Never_. And you were never this much of a coward before. You gave in—gave up.” Stark took another step and bumped up against Bucky’s arm. He slapped Bucky out of the way and stalked forward until he was right up against the bars, cheeks flushed with anger. “I was coming, damn it.”

“A coward or a pawn?” Steve weighed the two options in his hands. “They’re the same at this point I suppose.”

“A pawn? A _pawn_? Come on, Steve. Think this through. It’s me, you trust me. It’s not always been perfect but that trust has to mean something. And it’s Barnes.” Bucky’s eyebrows darted up at the mention of his name and he resisted the urge to start hauling Stark back from the bars. Stark knew him, then? “You’ve just got him back. Let’s walk out of here and call it a day. No questions asked, everything forgiven.”

There was no way that was going to work.

“Steve,” Bucky croaked, finding his voice. “This isn’t right, this isn’t what you said—”

“This is exactly what I said. Tony’s going to join us, and together we’ll take down the Avengers. Just like it was always meant to be. All of us, together.”

“That’s not—”

“Shut up, James. No. Steve, that’s ridiculous. Of all of us, you’re the good one. The _good one_. You’ve always been that way. Better than HYDRA, better than all of this.” Stark paused, drawing a deep breath and steeling himself further. “Better than me—you said it yourself, remember—so don’t do this. Keep being the better man, Steve.”

“It’s sweet, the way you think there’s anything left of the Steve you knew. Well. Maybe something. I want you just as much as he did. Maybe more, even.” Steve reached through the bars to touch Stark’s face but he flinched backward. Disdain tightened across Steve’s lips. “You’re going to come around, Tony. Bucky did, I did. Everyone breaks in the end. It’s just about finding the right… incentive.”

“Is that what this is about?” Bucky demanded, crowding up against the metal, so close he could feel Steve’s breath on his face. Stark was at his elbow, so close he could’ve been tucked up against his side. “Jealousy? You already have me, so let Stark go. You don’t need him. You already have me. You can _have_ me.”

“Bucky,” Steve said, tone exasperated as if even Bucky’s name was too exhausting to say, “I spent years doing everything anyone ever asked of me. Everything that was _right_ and for what? Nothing. If anything, that’s what HYDRA showed me. I could have more than that—be more than that. Call it selfishness if you have to, but I deserve this. I’m choosing to keep you both.”

“You’re delusional,” Stark hissed and Steve’s hand shot out to wrap tight around Stark’s wrist. Steve jerked him against the cold metal, lifting him off his feet as his face slammed against the unforgiving rods. It was a miracle Steve hadn’t shattered his teeth.

“I couldn’t believe it, you know,” Steve started, tightening up his grip on Stark’s arm when Bucky moved to intervene. Little smatterings of white appeared around the tips of Steve’s fingers as Stark struggled in his grasp and Steve gave Bucky a warning look. Fear thrummed through their bond and between the spaces in Steve’s fingers, Bucky could just make out the vague image of Tony’s soulmark. “That after everything, _everything_ I went through for you both, that you were meant to be together.

“Steve, stop. Stop! What difference does it make? You already have me and I won’t fight you. We’ll just go one being soulmates, like you said?”

“Steve, please,” Stark’s voice was rough and strangled as pain rushed into the back of Bucky’s mind, “please don’t do this.”

“You’ve never begged this pretty before,” Steve murmured, quiet and contemplative. “Either of you. A man could get used to that.”

Ice slid down Bucky’s spine and he swallowed, hard, forcing himself to submit. “Please.”

“We’ll see how long the fight lasts. You’re a tough one, Tony, I know that. But everyone cracks eventually. We’ll start with pain and see where we need to go from there, shall we?”

“No, don’t—” But even as Bucky moved towards them again, it was too late.

Steve smashed Stark’s wrist down against the joining bar in the cell door, bone snapping against dull metal and the hideous sound made Bucky flinch, even before Stark’s shriek of pain.

Fire licked up Bucky’s non-existent left arm as he watched, helpless while Stark struggled against Steve’s hold, jerking and twisting away until Steve released him and he went tumbling to the ground. Stark’s lips pulled back into a snarl and he glared up at Steve. The heaving gasps of his breath ricocheted across the concrete.

“What’s the endgame here?” Stark demanded; voice braver than Bucky knew he felt. “Come on, Cap. The team will be here in a day or two. You’ve got no chance.”

“I think we both know that’s not true.”

Stark’s face didn’t change but Bucky could sense that Steve had called his bluff. Stark was out of options. A wave of uncertainty rose up and Bucky didn’t know what to think. Everything was numb, cold and detached.

He took a step towards the bars, hand clenched into a fist when Steve turned his shuttered gaze on him.

“That’s enough now, Bucky.” Steve said in the dangerous, smooth tone he used whenever Bucky’s body moved without explicit permission. “Why don’t we start with something simple. You two must be dying to get to know each other better and I’d love to give you the opportunity. Normally, I don’t like sharing my things, but I’ll make an exception.

“Fuck you,” Stark spat on the ground at Steve’s feet and Steve sighed.

“This will go easier if you do what I ask, Tony.”

Stark’s eyes narrowed; arm cradled against his chest as he tried to shift into a more dignified position. “What do you mean, easier?”

“That camera, there,” Steve nodded towards the blinking red light in the far corner, “provides a direct feed to my suit. I’m going to leave you two alone, and Bucky’s going to fuck you.”

“No!” Bucky growled as Stark’s face paled. “Steve, I won’t.”

“You can, and you will. I know you’ll make it good for him. You’re always so good for me when we’re together, aren’t you? And what a nice treat, finally getting to stick your cock in something, hm?” The words were a saccharine pat on the cheek, Steve offering him condescending praise for a job well done and Tony’s body as the twisted reward.

“You fucking bastard.”

“So disagreeable today, Bucky. Where’s my soft, sweet soulmate gone?” Steve tilted his head and gave a sympathetic twist of his lips. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. You can watch.”

“Watch?” Stark echoed tightly, and Stark must have known Bucky was about to protest again. Fight, bargain, beg, whatever Steve wanted, he could do it, but when he opened his mouth to speak, Stark cut him off. “James.”

Bucky whipped around at the sound of that name again. That name _meant_ something.

“Isn’t that sweet. He wants you. You sure you want to pass that up?”

“If I do it,” Bucky whispered with stunted words, eyes never leaving Stark’s face. “If I do what you’re asking. You’ll leave him alone? You won’t touch him?”

“Of course. You have my word.” _A word that means nothing now_.

“Fine.” Bucky knew a losing battle when he saw one.

The lesser of two evils; Bucky was a master at that game. It’d been his life for the better part of a century.

Steve smiled, clapping his hands together. “Excellent.”

Just as he turned to leave, Stark spoke again, eyes fixed on a spot on the floor. “Steve. There’s no coming back from something like this. You have to know that. This is—” Stark shook his head, lost for words. “There’s no coming back.”

“Maybe. Then again, there were a lot of things I thought I’d never come back from. Resiliency is a matter of perspective, wouldn’t you say?” When Stark had no response, Steve gave him a lingering look, eyebrows raised in a final acknowledgement to the video camera.

He gave a resolute nod, then set off down the hallway.

The echo of Steve’s footfalls lingered in Bucky’s enhanced ears and he held up a hand to stop Stark before he started to speak again, waiting for the coast to clear.

Taking an uncertain step forward, Bucky dropped down to one knee.

Stark was shivering, great wracking tremors rolling through his body as he held his damaged arm protectively across his chest. The brown of his eyes had been eaten away by black, a mixture of fear and desperation visible under the tangle of unruly brown hair.

“Are you alright?” Bucky asked, slowly.

With Steve gone, a war flared to life inside Bucky’s mind. Freshwater met salt and combined into one, a churning battle of consumption as the unnatural desire to protect the man he’d spent so long hating overtook everything else.

How long had Stark just been another prize for Steve’s possession? Bucky’s _soulmate_ , just another trophy for Steve’s collection.

When he tried to reach out towards him, Stark flinched back, breathing hard. “Stop. Don’t.”

With gritted teeth, Stark explored the length of his wrist with ginger fingers and Bucky winced as a hint of pain flared across the bond. It must be a drop in the bucket of what Stark was actually feeling.

“Jesus, he’s always been kind of an asshole, but this is a whole new level of fucked up.”

Bucky blinked watching as Stark forced himself to look up and meet his eye. He tried to gain some semblance of control over the panic starting to bloom in his chest, drawing an unsteady breath.

“Stark, I didn’t—”

“I’m sorry,” Stark interrupted, tugging at the torn edges of his fight suit.

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you—that this was where—sorry, fuck. I can’t stop shaking.” Stark gripped his injured arm at the elbow as if that might do anything to stop the quaking. “I didn’t know that you were even alive. I thought my soulmate was dead. It’s been forty years.” Stark gave him a pleading look. “If I’d known… James, if I’d know you were here, I would have never stopped looking for you.”

Bucky shook his head, swallowing around sour, rancid saliva. “He… He told me he was my soulmate.”

“Are you? What? Don’t give me that look. It’s happened before, some people have more than one. I always thought he didn’t have one.”

“No. He told me the serum had removed all the marks from his skin. And the soulmark… I just _believed_ him.” Bucky closed his eyes against the bombarding thoughts, knowing they would spill over to Stark.

Then Stark would know it all; the way he’d accepted it, how he’d been so desperate to have Steve that he’d given him everything. Steve had possessed him down to the core of his being, even when it had hurt, even when Steve had taken and demanded more by force, and Bucky hadn’t fought him.

“James. I’m sorry.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

Stark paused, shooting him an uncertain look. “Isn’t—wait, it’s your name, isn’t it?”

Was it?

All at once, a barrage of images, some his own, some Stark’s, hit him. A memorial of himself in a dark room, a photograph of his dog tags blown up and projected onto a massive screen with the stamp of _James Buchanan Barnes_. His mother, stroking her hand through his hair at all of six years old, _James_. A man’s voice, _James, a leader, proud and strong_.

“Oh, I get it. You’re probably a Jim, right? My James is a Jim,” Tony’s breathing picked up and the stream of words didn’t stop, filling the uneasy space between them. Bucky recognized the panic. “Well, when he isn’t a Rhodey. Or maybe Jimmy? Jimothy? Fuck, stop me. I think I’m in shock and you’re really starting to wig me out here. Please, for the love of God—”

“—Stark—”

“Fuck. I’m going to have to kill him.” Tony laughed, a hysteric sound. “I’m going to have to kill Captain fucking America. What a terrible Monday. And I’ve had some monumentally shitty Mondays, let me tell you.”

“Tony.”

Tony sucked in a breath, teeth clacking against each other as his mouth snapped shut and he stared at Bucky, wide eyed. For a moment, he hesitated, wondering if he’d crossed some invisible line. But then it was there, just a flicker of sensation before it was gone.

 _Hope_.

“James is… Yeah. That’s fine. Sometimes I don’t remember things.” Bucky tapped a finger against his temple, as if that would somehow tell Tony about the empty pockets in his brain.

Tony sobered. “What did they do to you?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Bucky shrugged him off. “Can I take a look at that wrist? I need to bind it. Elevate it.” He paused, taking stock of the way Tony’s wrist swelled and now listed unsettlingly to the right. “It might need to be set and splinted.”

Everything through the bond screamed _no, no, no_ but Tony gave him a measured look and nodded.

“I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to. I get it, okay. I’ve done some terrible things; I wouldn’t want my hands on me either. But I promise you—I _promise_ you, Tony—I won’t hurt you.”

“It’s not that. Christ, James, it’s not that.” Tony looked as if Bucky had struck him. “And even if it was, none of that is your fault.”

“Don’t.” James said, low and harsher than he intended. “You have no idea.”

Tony relented and offered up his wrist as Bucky nudged closer, balanced on his knees with his arm limp at his side. Something almost shy crossed Tony’s face before he turned the arm over, and right there, in the centre of his wrist, was their soulmark.

It was beautiful. A small, red-purple flower so vivid it was almost pink with a bright yellow centre. There was a collection of wiry green foliage surrounding the bud, creating a stark contrast against Tony’s olive skin. Even swollen and obscured by a mottle of bruises, the mark was stunning.

Bucky _remembered_.

“Paeonia tenuifolia,” Tony said and Bucky could feel him watching as he dragged his gaze away from the mark to pull off his shirt, leaving Bucky in a thin undershirt. He tore long strips of fabric, binding them together to create a makeshift sling. “They’re found in southern Russia. Fate sure does have a sense of humour, huh?”

“Hilarious.” Bucky grunted as the sling looped over Tony's shoulder and slid away, shuffling on his knees to get a better vantage point. Tony held the sling in place as Bucky fumbled with his fingers and he cursed as the fabric slid through his grasp again. 

“He must’ve known, you know. That we were soulmates. Christ, what did they do to him that he’s _this_ now?”

“You don’t want to know,” Bucky replied simply.

“He said he’s going to keep us both.”

“I won’t let that happen. I’ll figure it out and I’ll get you out of this, I swear.”

“And what happens to you?” Tony flinched as Bucky leaned in to secure the knot with his teeth. He held his breath so it didn’t rustle through Tony’s hair and finally the sling held.

“I’ll figure it out. I’ve been here a long time, Tony.”

“No.” Tony shook his head, raising his voice to speak over him when Bucky started to interrupt. “No. The team will be looking for us. They’re already looking, I know they are. They don’t even know about you. Nobody does. And he wants me, so I’ll—Christ, I don’t know, maybe I can stall him? You can go, get them, tell them where we are. You do know where we are, don’t you?” Tony paused, a million possibilities streaming behind his eyes as he searched Bucky’s face. “I don’t have the suit. James, it’s got to be you.”

Tony’s hand shot out and suddenly they were touching again, skin to skin where Tony’s warm palm flat landed against the side of his face. Bucky couldn’t bite back the sharp inhale as everything in his body lit up at Tony’s proximity.

This was his soulmate. His perfect match. The only person in the world who could ever—who would ever—

“Tony,” Bucky choked out, wrapping his fingers around Tony’s and closing his eyes. “I had no idea.”

“Me either.” Tony’s fingers slid down to the nape of Bucky’s neck and he gently pulled him forward, pressing their foreheads together. It was unfair, the monumental effort it took just to breath.

“Steve’ll be back. He’s watching us.” The vigilant eye of the camera sent a prickle of awareness back along Bucky’s spine. “I can’t hurt you, Tony. I’ll think of something else. I’m not going to hurt you like this.”

“Shh,” Tony ran a tentative hand across his shoulder, fingers stuttering away from where the metal arm met mottled flesh. 

A flash of revulsion curled in his stomach, but Bucky quickly realized it was only his own. Across the bond, Tony radiated a sense of welcome and understanding underpinned by a reluctant resignation. Tony had already made the decision for them. 

“No, Tony. No.”

“What’s the alternative?”

“I’ll—I’ll kill him,” Bucky said, but his voice wavered and they both knew it was a lie.

“Not with your arm like that you won’t.” Tony pulled back from the sorry excuse of an embrace and gave Bucky’s arm a curious glance. “You know, I could build you something a hundred times better than that.”

“That’s what Steve said you’d say.” When Tony’s face darkened, he hastily added, “I guess I’ll have to hold you to that, when we get outta here, won’t I, doll?”

“I’ll build you a million arms when we get home.” _Home_.

Bucky didn’t doubt that for a second. “Just, let me think.”

Silence settled between them, and for the first time in his life, Bucky wasn’t able to lose himself in his mind. Tony was there with him, little snippets of sensations coursing between the invisible link of their minds.

A series of memories rushed in—lines of math with too many letters, a curious looking robot, a shock of red hair that Bucky remembered in his own way; a woman Tony thought might save them. There was no rhyme or reason to it, as if Bucky was sifting through Tony’s mind at his leisure.

He loathed to think what Tony might be seeing in his.

It wasn’t hard to see there was no way out of this. Either Bucky hurt Tony, or it would be Steve. Steve had offered the choice clearly enough.

Nausea coursed through him. He had brought Tony here, shot him down from the sky and played right into the palm of Steve’s hand. Bucky was little more than a puppet, so desperate for any scrap Steve threw his way that he’d gone along with everything he’d asked. And for what?

It’s all he’d ever been. HYDRA’s puppet, Steve’s puppet, and—

“ _Stop_.” Tony pressed his fingers into his eyes and Bucky blinked away the haze from his vision. “Please stop. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

“Don’t look in my head,” Bucky growled.

“It’s not like I have a choice.” Then, softer he added, “James, it’s not… It’s not supposed to be like that.”

“I should’ve just let him beat me.” Bucky’s voice cracked, shame rushing in to fill the hole in his chest. “I should’ve fought him. Stopped him. I didn’t do anything. He said we were soulmates and I let myself believe it.”

“You were doing what you needed to do to survive. It’s not your fault.”

“Stop saying that!” Bucky’s voice reverberated off the walls and down into the shadow of the hallway. “You don’t understand. You won’t understand, so stop. Just stop.”

Tony flinched back as if Bucky had struck him and Bucky could have sunk into the floor.

“I’m sorry—fuck, Tony I’m _sorry_.”

The meager light flickered and a shadow formed across Tony’s face, hiding his profile for a moment. The fire in Tony’s eyes had faded to embers now. He was giving up. Giving over.

“You might as well do it.”

“Tony—”

“You need to.”

“I can’t. Wait, stop.” Bucky reached out to try and still Tony, watching in dismay as he started to struggle with the bottom of his flight suit, pushing it down with one hand and refusing to look up. “How can I—”

“I want you to.”

“You don’t, you’re just—”

“Yeah, I am _just_!” Tony snapped. “Alright, no. Okay? Of course, this isn’t what I want. Of course, I wish that we were safe and you were at home with me and we could get to know each other. If you were in my bed I would—” Tony broke off when his voice cracked and when he looked up, there was a shimmer of tears in his eyes. “But it doesn’t matter. This is where we are. This is what’s going to happen. We’ll have something better another time, okay? James, please.”

Bucky rubbed a hand across his jaw, taking a measured breath. “Okay.” When the words were little more than a whisper he cleared his throat and tried again. “Okay. But I don’t want to hurt you. How can I… What can I do to make this easier for you?”

“Kiss me,” Tony said, catching them both off guard, “and, uh, maybe if I could… Be on my back. So, I’d know it’s you, y’know?”

Bucky glanced down at his arm, unmoving against his side and wondered how he’d make that work. He’d have to, somehow, if that’s what Tony needed, he could manage. “Yeah. Okay, yeah I can do that.”

He searched Tony’s face for a moment as if there might be some hidden secret written across his lips. Some map to lead them out of this terrible place, but Bucky had learned a thing or two about misplaced hope. He crowded Tony against the bars, leaning forward to brush the hair back from his face and caress the curve of his jaw.

Tony closed his eyes, the soft panting of his breath warm against Bucky’s moth.

Bucky kissed him, closed mouth and little more than a press of lips. It was enough though and Tony leaned into it, his mouth pliant and willing, moving with a tender gentleness across Bucky’s own until Bucky started to respond.

It wasn’t easy to imagine they were somewhere else, but Bucky tried. He pictured the summer sun, shining down to heat bare skin; what it might be like to kiss Tony under the changing colours of autumn or shove him into a bank of snow, licking into his mouth while Tony laughed and struggled to get free.

That’s how they should be together, not like this.

Between them, Tony reached down again and started on the fastening on his flight suit as he hesitantly explored Bucky’s mouth with his tongue. The connection of their soulbond sang with excitement, paying no mind to the grim circumstances. His soul recognized its perfect match, trying to disregard anything else. 

“It’s uh, it’s been a while.” Tony murmured as they worked in tandem to tug off his pants. When Tony reached to start on Bucky’s, he brushed Tony away and did it himself. “You’re going to have to go easy, okay? Don’t suppose you’ve got any lube in your pocket, huh?” Bucky shook his head, biting down on the inside of his cheek. “Okay. Okay, that’s—yeah. Okay. Here.”

Tony brought Bucky’s hand to his mouth and spat. Once, twice, then shoving his hand back for Bucky to do the same. The saliva in Bucky’s mouth was too thick, tacky and foul, and hardly enough to give Tony what he deserved.

Tony gave him a flat look. “It’ll have to do.”

“I’m sorry.”

Reaching down between their bodies, Bucky hesitated, glancing at Tony for permission. When Tony nodded, he slid slick fingers over Tony’s hole, sitting back on his calves and watching as Tony tightened, resisting the touch. 

Panic and a flurry of fear exploded in the back of his mind and Bucky wanted to gag. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

“You need to relax, Tony.” 

Bucky spat again into his hand, the vulgar noise almost more hideous than the way Bucky’s fingers forced their way inside, dragging and catching against too-dry skin. He licked his lips, bit down on his tongue, anything to stimulate moisture before trying again.

“It’s fine. Just do it. You’ll have to make it work.”

“It’s _not_ fucking fine,” Bucky hissed, Tony’s muscles finally starting to yield as he scissored his way into Tony’s body, crudely massaging Tony’s rim. His mind rang with self-loathing, _monster, monster, you’re a fucking monster_ , and Tony moaned, a hurt, broken sound that did nothing to sooth the guilt rushing through Bucky in droves.

Finally, he tilted back to slick himself up while Tony’s eyes stayed trained on his face. Bucky tugged at his limp cock, too overwhelmed with revulsion to feel anything bordering on pleasure. A few more yanks and sweat broke out across his forehead.

He wasn’t going to get hard. He wasn’t going to be able to do this and Steve would come back. He’d come back and he’d—

“Stop.” Tony’s hand covered his own and Bucky’s eyes snapped open. He hadn’t even realized he’d closed them. “Let me.”

Bucky dropped his forehead to Tony’s, breathing hard and holding back a sob as the last shred of his resolve shattered. He’d done horrific things, more than he could count or think atone for. It was just one more horrific thing so why couldn’t he do this? Why now? “I can’t, Tony.”

“You can. I promise you can.” Tony stroked his jaw, caressing the slope of his neck before he reached between them to wrap his hand around Bucky’s pathetic cock even as Bucky jerked back. He shot a hand out to grip the bar above Tony’s head, balancing his weight so as not to crush him. “Listen. We’re at home, in my bed. You haven’t been there yet, but you’ll like it. It’s beautiful. Soft. I have so many pillows—it’s a little ridiculous, but I like to be comfortable. I like my lovers to be comfortable too.”

The sob broke free and Bucky choked on air as his cock started to respond, waking up and filling out in Tony’s hand. Tony stroked over his head, teasing at the slit and Bucky didn’t deserve this.

He didn’t deserve Tony’s kind words after he’d stolen him out of the sky and brought him here. He didn’t deserve the softness of his bed or a mountain of pillows.

 _Selfish, selfish, selfish_.

Bucky’s cock flagged and Tony squeezed gently beneath the head, twisting his wrist on the upstroke. “You’ll love it, James. And we’d be making love because we’re soulmates, right? I’ve waited my whole life for you. My whole life.”

Bucky shuffled forward as Tony lined him up and guided Bucky back to the entrance of his body. It was a small mercy that Tony was doing this, one that Bucky knew he didn’t deserve. Tony was the victim here.

“You’d know I was enjoying it because I’d make all those little noises you’d love. You’d tease me, wouldn’t you?” Tony’s voice cracked on a sob of his own but he didn’t stop: not the tight grasp on Bucky’s erection nor the soft words in Bucky’s ear. “I’d tell you to get on with it but you know I’d secretly love that. And you’d be so hard for me. All for me, James.” Tony paused and drew a breath. “Come on, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Bucky nudged his hips forward, sliding into the warm vice of Tony’s body. Burning registered across the bond but he pushed through it, driving forward until he was buried to the hilt.

Tony groaned, swallowing hard and staying still with his uninjured hand suspended in the air between them.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky gasped out, pulling back and thrusting forward. Tony’s hand clenched into a fist and thumped against Bucky’s shoulder. He sobbed again, tears rolling down his cheeks and falling like droplets of rain onto Tony’s chest.

 _Open your eyes, you fucking coward_.

When he forced them open, Tony’s eyes were trained on his face, tears slipping free. Even with his jaw set and a deep line of dismay between his eyebrows, he kept his gaze focused on Bucky’s face. Just like he’d said.

“James, please,” Tony begged, voice broken and small.

Bucky picked up the pace, rolling his hips as hard as he dared to chase after the pleasureless release. The orgasm started to curl in his gut, at odds with the disgust.

Over their heads, the red blink of the camera was a steady taunt and Bucky choked, horrified when he remembered Steve was there. Steve was watching this. Watching _them_.

_Monster. You’re a fucking monster._

He tried to simultaneously shield Tony with his body while touching as little of him as possible, just a brush of his hips against Tony’s with every unsteady thrust. Tony was perfectly still, feet planted on the concrete, barely moving save for the shivers that rolled through him as he wept.

It felt like it went on for an eternity, pleasure building and disappearing inside Bucky’s stomach as he drove forward, the smack of their bodies together hideous and cruel. When his cock dragged and tugged along Tony’s inner walls, Bucky slowed to spit again, continuing the little comfort he could offer him until Tony started shaking his head, silently begging him to stop.

Finally, _finally_ , it ended as Bucky grunted and came, pulling free the second it ended to watch red-tinged come drip onto the cement between them.

He tried to pull away, already scrambling back to the furthest corner of the cell when Tony fisted his hand in Bucky’s shirt and held on.

“Let go. Tony, let me go.”

“I need you to hold me,” Tony hissed between gritted teeth. “Please. Please don’t leave me.”

“I can’t—”

“ _Please_.”

It didn’t make any sense, but the desperation in his voice had Bucky swallowing back bile and tugging Tony’s ruined pants back over his hips. He tucked himself back in as well and hauled Tony away from the bars, huddling into the far corner with Tony half tucked into his lap.

Everything inside him screamed to let go, but the desperation leaking from Tony’s end of the bond was too much. There wasn’t anything to say, no words that would take this away or make it better, so Bucky relented and wrapped his arms more fully around Tony’s waist, holding on.

The warmth of Tony’s body seared into his side like a brand as Tony sobbed again. It was just a quiet hitch of his breath and soon after, Bucky followed suit.

Together they wept, and eventually, they slept. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings
> 
> This chapter contains triggers for the following:  
> 1) Gaslighting – Steve’s deranged, he uses this against them all (note: this will continue through upcoming chapters).  
> 2) Graphic Violence – A graphic depiction of a wrist being broken.  
> 3) Blood – Bucky and Tony are coerced into a sexual act resulting in bleeding and depictions of blood.


	3. Chapter 3

“Get up.”

The clinking of metal and the harsh tone of Steve’s voice startled Bucky awake, jostling Tony in his lap. Tony struggled upright, blinking sleep from his eyes as the colour that had returned to his cheeks through the night started to fade away.

“Steve, don’t do this,” Bucky protested as he whipped around and made sure Tony was upright before he left him, stalking closer to the bars. 

The door was open now, Steve standing at the threshold with a small black bag slung over one shoulder. It wouldn’t take much to reach out and deck him, knocking those perfect teeth from his skull, but Bucky only had one arm and an injured soulmate, and he wasn’t even sure if his protocols would allow him to fight Captain HYDRA. Even when the programming had worn thin in the past, there had always been limits. 

“Don’t do what, Bucky? I didn’t do a thing. From where I was sitting, it looked like you did an awful lot, though.” Steve smiled, his expression dark even as his ice blue eyes crinkled at the corners.

Tony snarled behind him. “He didn’t, you fucking—”

“Ah, quiet,” Steve snapped, waving a blasé hand in Tony’s direction. “You never did know when to stop, did you, Tony? You push and you push until you get yourself into all sorts of trouble. Do you really want to get yourself into trouble _here_?”

Tony’s lips pulled back around his teeth in distaste, and before Bucky realized what he was doing, he was pushing Tony behind him, blocking Steve’s view of him. It was foolish, he’d think later, believing that his body could serve as any sort of shield or deterrent.

“Let’s talk about this, Steve. I’m sure we can work something out,” Bucky tried, reaching behind him and gripping Tony’s arm when he felt him moving behind him, rebelling against Bucky’s protection. Even if it was pointless, and it felt pointless, he had to try. He was willing to do that, for Tony. There were a lot of things he now found himself willing to do for the man, a whole new repertoire of instincts tucked into his brain.

“What do you have to barter with, Bucky?” Steve asked with a lazy arrogance. “Your skill? Your freedom? Your body? All mine already.”

Bucky clenched down on his molars, grinding until they screamed in his mouth. 

Disgust pulsed in his mind, but it wasn’t directed towards him. No, where Bucky was concerned, Tony’s thoughts were all soothing waves of affection. Like coming home from a long day’s work, opening the door, and seeing your soulmate gazing up at you from the sofa with an outstretched arm.

“We don’t need him. He’s just extra weight, you know that, Steve. We always worked better when it was just the two of us. We belong together.” The words landed like vomit on the floor.

Steve came closer into the cell and set his package aside without care. The door was still open behind him, but to rush towards it would be futile. Tony stumbled back, landing on his ass and Bucky tumbled down after him, still gripping Tony’s arm. Inhaling sharply, Bucky crowded in front of him again despite the way Tony shoved at his back, indignant even in his fear. . 

It might’ve been comical if Bucky’s heart hadn’t been pounding out of his chest.

Steve dropped down onto his haunches in front of them. Despite the overwhelming urge to pull away, Bucky steeled himself and met Steve gaze.

“You’re jealous. It’s okay, Buck. I know a thing or two about that. You were always mine first; you don’t have anything to worry about. And besides, it’s obvious that Tony feels something for you, too. You’ll always be something special. To both of us.”

“Steve. Please.” Desperation pulsed in his chest. This wasn’t going anywhere. “Let him go.”

Steve sighed, patting his cheek with too hard smacks, and redirected his attention. “Enough; the begging is only good for so long. Tony, you’re quiet. Perhaps you can teach an old dog new tricks. Don’t you at least want to thank me?”

“ _Thank_ you?” Tony laughed, shaking his head. “Steve. Come on; enough is enough. What’s the endgame here? You’re working on borrowed time, so just come out with it.”

“See, at first I thought the same thing but I’ve been here for months, Tony, and you didn’t have so much as a lead. You didn’t know where I was and I’d be willing to bet the team is no closer to realizing you’re here than you were two days ago. As far as I can see, I have all the time in the world.”

Bucky swallowed, because Steve was right. Steve was always right.

“The Iron Man suit—”

“—Remains disabled, including the homing device. Come on, sweetheart; at least give Bucky a little credit. He’s a master assassin, after all.” 

If he’d been on his feet, Bucky was sure Tony would’ve been pacing. A caged animal, frantic and desperate for an escape. Tony was underwater and sinking fast, his eyes searching Steve’s face, and Bucky could feel him biding for time, running the series of permutations that would end with him, an unlikely victor, in Steve’s twisted game. 

“I’m going to fight you, Steve. Every step of the way. It’s not going to be like it was before; you have to know that. There’s no world in which I’ll make this easy for you.” Tony’s words sounded like a threat, but Bucky could feel the realization sinking in all over again.

Tony’s slow descent into defeat washed over them both.

Steve only smiled. “I was counting on it. Now...” Steve trailed off, rising to his feet again to shut and seal the bars. The lock clicked back into place and he stood over them, hands clasped loosely over his utility belt. “We need to talk about your little problem from last night.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Problem?”

“Bucky, come on,” Steve cocked a brow. “Tony didn’t finish, did he? Selfish, Buck. That was just selfish of you. Which I have to admit, took me a bit by surprise. You’ve never been a selfish lover with me.”

“Performance anxiety, Cap. Happens to the best of us.” Tony said with a smirk that hung from his lips and disappeared by the time Bucky met his eye.

Steve considered it. “Really? Even for the billionaire playboy?”

“Could have had something to do with this, maybe?” Tony shrugged his left shoulder and the sling jostled.

“I suppose we’ll see.”

Bucky froze, body going tense and abruptly cold. “Steve, no. You promised. You said that you wouldn’t.”

“And I didn’t, not last night. You did. Now we can start again. So, be good for me, for us, and things will go a lot smoother. I’ll make sure to show you how to get him off proper, for next time, okay, Buck? But pay attention, because I won’t stand for it again. Tony deserves just as much pleasure as you or I. He’s a part of this now.”

Bucky opened his mouth to protest but Tony caught him at the bicep, fingers wrapping around and squeezing. _Be quiet_.

“Now, here’s how this is going to go,” Steve spoke casually, tugging the bag towards him and rooting through its contents. 

He set aside a few things: a thick spool of rope, a pair of handcuffs, a gag that left Bucky swallowing around bile. It was a fear tactic and a good one, because the ice in his stomach spread and gathered in his extremities until Bucky couldn’t feel his fingers. 

“It’s only fair that we all share, and I want us to be in this together. The last possible outcome to the equation, so to speak. So, Bucky, you’re going to hold Tony down, and then you can have his mouth, okay?”

“Fuck you,” Tony hissed, curling further against the wall—further against Bucky, huddling up against him as if it could change anything.

“Tony—”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to hold him. I’m just worried he’ll struggle.” Steve glanced up, expression ambivalent. “If you don’t want to, I may need to break the other wrist.”

“Steve. Stevie, please—”

“What’ll it be, Bucky? I think you should hold him. He’ll enjoy it more that way. And,” Steve broke off with an almost soft smile, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear, “I could always make you, if you’d prefer.”

“ _No_ ,” Tony said resolutely, as if it were his decision to make. “James’ll do it.”

“Tony—”

And it was the night before all over again. 

Except this time Bucky could see the cruelty in full force; the unerring resolve of the Captain as he took what he wanted. HYDRA was an unforgiving beast and Steve was at the helm. There was no rhyme or reason and maybe that was the point. Steve wanted it, so he took it. He felt something was owed to him, and somehow in this scenario, _Steve_ was the wronged party. 

Bucky brushed a hand through Tony’s hair, trailing his thumb across his lips and feeling the way Tony’s jaw twitched and clenched under his touch. Then he pulled him away from the wall with as much care as he could, helping him lie down on the floor. 

Tony had been there last night, a steady rock in the whirlpool of Steve’s madness. Bucky needed to get it together. Tony deserved that much and through the bond, he could feel Tony crumbling.

“Why don’t you hold him in your lap, Buck?” Steve suggested, and Bucky readjusted, sitting back and spreading his legs so that Tony was half propped against his stomach. He reached for his uninjured arm, linking their fingers together and pressing it to Tony’s chest. “That’s such a pretty sight. I’ve waited for you both for such a long time.”

Bucy held Tony close. Restrained him.

“It’s okay,” Bucky murmured, his tone unconvincing even to his own ears. He had to do better than that.

“I’m never going to want this, Steve. Not with you, not now. You’re fooling yourself.” Tony twisted away from Steve’s touch even as Steve used his strength to pin Tony’s hips down with one hand and tear off the remainder of his flight suit with the other.

When Tony pressed his legs together, Steve settled both palms over his knees and pried them apart. “It’s only a matter of time, Tony. I’ll do what it takes to convince you.”

“Gotta take your pants off to fuck me, genius.”

Bucky squeezed his fingers and silently begged him to stop. Just stop fighting. It was so much worse when he’d fought.

“All in good time, sweetheart.”

He gripped the back of Tony’s thighs and pushed them forward and Bucky resisted the urge to close his eyes. _Coward_.

“James.” Tony’s eyes were wide, red-rimmed and bruised purple from fatigue. For a moment, Tony looked as if he might say more, but nothing else followed. He turned his face into his shoulder, pressing further into Bucky’s abdomen.

“You’re okay, doll. I’m right here. I’m sorry, Tony. I’m so sorry.”

“Please,” Tony whimpered, and between his legs, Steve was inspecting the mess still dripping from his hole. A mixture of come and blood slid out of him and Steve used his thumbs to spread Tony’s rim further, releasing a new stream.

“We’re in our bed,” Bucky blurted. “Like before, just like you said. We’re in our bed and I’m holding you, running my fingers through your hair, like this.” Bucky untangled his fingers for just a moment, sliding them through Tony’s hair. “And I’ll—I’m going to run my hands all over you, touch you everywhere. Work out some of those knots because I bet you spend long hours working, don’t you? Yeah, a genius little thing like you? You deserve to be pampered.”

Steve hummed an annoyed sound and shot Bucky a warning look, then dipped lower, and swiped his tongue across Tony’s hole. 

As Steve lapped at the mess, gentle and then with sharper jabs of his tongue, Tony tensed and squirmed against Steve’s hold and Bucky’s. He gasped and arched away from the touch, but Steve’s hands on his thighs were a vice, keeping him rooted in place.

It went on too long, the wet swiping and sucking of Steve’s mouth over Tony’s sensitive ass. Every echo of Steve’s lips sucking Bucky’s spend from Tony’s body reverberated through the cell. When he was finished, Steve spat once and pressed in, thrusting two fingers in without further preamble.

Tony jerked but remained silent, and Bucky could feel it: Tony’s determination to make this easier for Bucky even then. Still focusing on Bucky.

“It’s me, Tony. It’s just me, okay?” Bucky was grasping at straws.

“No, it’s not.” Tony forced out, between gritted teeth. “It’s not. That’s not—I won’t pretend that it’s you. You’re better, James. You’re nothing like this.”

“Quiet, or I’ll gag you,” Steve snapped, readjusting between Tony’s thighs.

“Steve—” Tony nudged his head against Bucky’s stomach and Bucky choked on his words, curling around him in a futile attempt to comfort him. He was screwing this up.

They lapsed into silence, Bucky focusing on sending as much ease and support as he could through the soulbond, pressing their joined fingers over Tony’s sternum and breathing slowly, urging Tony to take deep, even breaths that grew more ragged when Steve took Tony’s limp cock into his mouth and sucked.

Disgust and self-hatred shuddered between them when Tony’s cock started to react, blood rushing south as his erection grew under Steve’s attention. 

Bucky’d been there, too, body responding even as everything inside him screamed to fight. He longed to lean down and press his lips against Tony’s forehead and tell them this wasn’t his fault but he couldn’t risk it. He rubbed his thumb where he could reach, back and forth across Tony’s hand.

Steve sucked harder, hollowing his cheeks and groaning lightly when Tony’s body flinched, shuddering and jerking forward towards the sensation.

“You’re perfect, Tony,” Bucky said, “you’re so beautiful and perfect. I can’t wait to take you out, treat you right like you deserve. Or maybe you’d rather stay in? I could cook once, you know. Maybe I could cook for you. And we could watch a movie. You could fall asleep in my arms.”

“Netflix and chill?” Tony said, a pinched smile flickering across his mouth.

“Dunno what the fuck Netflix and chill is, sweet thing, but whatever you like. Anything you like. Just the two of us.”

Steve pulled off of Tony’s cock and glared at Bucky, but didn’t speak, and Bucky could see the wheels turning behind his eyes. Something wasn’t right. 

For a moment he remembered the first time, when Bucky had tried to kiss Steve. He’d been too assertive. He hadn’t given in right away. Hadn’t let Steve have him, until he _did_. But Bucky couldn’t bring himself to stop, not when Tony was shaking in his arms, fear racketing through him as he braced himself for what came next.

Steve didn’t strip, just started tugging the utility belt from around his waist and unzipped his fly, tugging his cock out of his pants and giving himself a few long pumps. Reaching into the bag, Steve pulled out a small tube of lube and slicked up his fingers, pressing them deep into Tony’s body even as he tensed and wriggled up further into Bucky’s lap.

Bucky breathed out a hiss and Steve glanced up, eyes tracking between Bucky’s face and the lube tossed aside on the floor. “I would have given you some if you’d asked, Buck. I thought because you didn’t, maybe you hadn’t needed it?”

Bucky held back a sharp response as Steve leaned forward, bending Tony almost in half. Tony’s breathing kicked up, inhales shallow, his heart rate jumping and tormenting Bucky’s enhanced hearing.

“It’s okay. Tony, you’re okay. I’ve got you, darlin’. You and me, we can do anything. We’re soulmates.”

Steve thrust into Tony in one sharp motion, groaning loud and long as he bottomed out. Tony went tense, crying out and gripping Bucky’s fingers until the nails went blue.

The pace Steve set was vicious, ploughing into Tony’s body as if it were nothing more than a hole to be fucked, shutting his eyes and panting out desperate, pleasurable little huffs of air as he did. Bucky’s stomach turned over and he focused on Tony’s face, pinched and white, but still so achingly beautiful.

“It’s okay!” Bucky whispered urgently. “Tony, breathe. I’ve got you. Focus on me, doll. Just me and you.” 

And then Steve stopped, heaving a heavy sigh. “I thought you were going to be able to do better than this, Buck. I really did. But you’re selfish. You’ve always been selfish. Maybe it’s my fault? Maybe I gave you too much? Tony is _ours_. Not yours, ours. I can take him from you before you even blink.”

“You’re right,” Bucky scrambled, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking—”

“Enough. You need a little reset, to remind you what’s really going on here. To remind you who you belong to. I’ll take good care of Tony for us both and we’ll start fresh in a few days.”

“Steve—” Bucky’s words died on Steve’s lips as he leaned over Tony, thrusting deep into Tony’s ass as he did, and kissed Bucky, hard, biting at his lip and breaking the skin before forcing his tongue into his mouth.

Bucky struggled back, jostling Tony’s broken wrist with the motion and hearing Tony hiss in pain. He was hurting Tony. He had to stop struggling; had to get himself, this situation, anything, under control. 

He had to get Steve’s tongue out of his fucking mouth.

Steve bit him again, drawing blood, and then he pulled back, pressing their foreheads together for a brief moment. When Bucky opened his eyes, trying to focus on Tony where he was sandwiched between their bodies, wide chocolate eyes were staring back at him.

“Желание—”

“Steve, no!” Bucky cried.

“—ржавый, семнадцать, pассвет.—”

“Tony, I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”

“What are you doing to him? Steve, you _motherfucker_ , what are you doing!? _Fuck_!” Tony screamed, struggling against Steve’s hold, and suddenly Bucky’s metal arm was working again, sliding around Tony’s throat and holding him still, squeezing the air from his lungs and stealing the words from his mouth.

“—печь, девять, добросердечный, bозвращение на pодину—”

Tony thrashed, begging and pleading as tears slid down his face and onto Bucky’s pants. The words were a blur in his mind, disappearing as the trigger words rushed into every crevice of his consciousness and started to take hold. He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but Bucky was sinking, disappearing into the depths of his mind.

“—oдин—”

Tony’s face blurred out of focus and white noise took over until the screaming inside his mind had faded, too.

“— _tоварный вагон_.”

The Asset forced Stark to be still, eyes snapping up to where Captain HYDRA was waiting for his acknowledgement. 

“ _James!_ What the fuck!? James, please!”

The Asset covered Stark’s mouth with his hand and Captain HYDRA smiled. “Captain. Ready to comply.”

“Excellent,” Captain HYDRA murmured, running a hand down the side of the Asset’s face.

He was not certain how he’d come to be here, but it was no matter. The Asset had succeeded in his mission.

When the Captain shoved back into Stark’s body, driving into him again and again, Stark struggled and kicked, screaming against the wet metal of the Asset’s palm. He followed every order exactly, holding the man still, bracing him against the unforgiving cement.

When the Captain was close, he gripped Stark’s throat again until Stark was gasping for breath, everything tightening and creating even more friction for the Captain’s cock. He spasmed in the Asset’s arms for a long time, the airway restricted, until he went limp.

The Captain groaned again, pumping the aftershocks of his release into Stark’s warm, supple body. Then he slapped Stark hard across the face, bringing him back to full consciousness before they proceeded.

Together they worked Stark’s half-hard cock over in their hands, the Asset gripping his balls, filling him back up with his fingers to fuck the Captain’s come back inside him as the Captain stroked Stark towards completion.

Stark sobbed, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he kept his eyes pressed closed. Hot splatters of release decorated his stomach when he came, struggling right until the end and only going limp when the Asset followed the orders to bend down to lap at the mess, cleaning him up.

When it was all over, the Captain kissed the Asset again, sweet and loving, licking the taste of Stark’s come from his mouth while he praised him.

The Captain rewarded him, offering him Stark’s mouth to use, and the Asset shoved his cock between his lips, meeting little resistance. The wet heat of Stark’s throat was an erotic torture and the Asset gripped Stark’s jaw to angle him where he liked, holding him still. 

Stark finally looked up, eyes red-rimmed and pupils dilated. It was a look somewhere between a plea to end this—to kill him, even—and to draw him in closer. 

The look did not adhere to standard protocols, so the Asset glanced over at the Captain for confirmation and the Captain nodded him on, a lazy, sated smile on his face.

The Asset gasped as his orgasm washed over everything, shooting down Stark’s throat in a moment of perfect, blissful peace.

“James, please,” Stark said once the Asset was through. His voice was destroyed and the Asset ignored him. Stark was just another warm body. A gift from the Captain he’d have been foolish to turn down. 

Captain HYDRA tugged them both into his arms, holding them close. “My soulmates.” 

* * *

Later, the Captain requested their presence for dinner.

Stark—Tony, the Captain called him—had very little to say as the Asset prepared him, cleaning him with the same rigid standard that he cleaned himself. He dressed Tony in fresh clothing and when Tony did speak, he called the Asset James, which made little sense because the Asset had never been or known a James. 

A Bucky, maybe, somewhere in the back of his mind, and because it pleased the Captain. But never a James. 

Still, something in the way Tony said it makes him almost wish he were a James.

Tony sat at the table, slumped over the meal the Captain had ordered, his arm in a fresh sling and held more securely across his chest. He refused to eat, but the Captain didn’t seem to mind and the Asset knew better than to waste a meal, so he diligently devoured his own.

When he was finished he followed the Captain’s orders to restrain and feed Tony since he was unwilling to do so himself. An odd desire appeared, a flicker of yearning to feed Tony sweet fruits and hold him against his chest. 

Perhaps the Asset required maintenance. 

“Steve, please.” Tony’s words were a whispered plea, barely more strength to them than what it took to push the air from his lungs. “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever you want. Just let James go. He’s still in there. I can feel him, Steve. Please, don’t do this to him.”

The Captain regarded him with cold blue eyes that flicker between Tony’s face and the Asset’s. The Asset squeezed his arms tighter around Tony. The arm that wasn’t braced against Tony’s chest was held in place on his own thigh, the Asset’s metal hand keeping him secure.

Tony ground his teeth together for a moment, denying the spoonful that the Asset offered him, then yielded.

“What do you think, Bucky?”

“Whatever pleases you, sir,” the Asset replied, tone flat and calculated. Tony struggled against his hold, twisting even when it was futile. 

He should know better. The Asset never struggled like this. Not when all was already lost.

“He’s fine, Tony. He’s got everything he could ever need,” the Captain countered, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “You hardly know him. Why does his life matter more to you than your own? That you’d sell your soul for him.”

“You know why,” Tony spat, spittle flecking across the Asset’s forearms as he spoke with a malice that struck deep in the Asset’s chest. Whoever this man was, whatever he was here for, he cared a great deal more for the Asset than he could possibly understand.

Why had no one told him it was futile to fight? Captain HYDRA ruled with an iron fist; the Asset was his greatest weapon of all.

Captain HYDRA would never let him go. 

“You’re not the guy who makes the sacrifice play,” the Captain said almost by way of a reminder, smiling an indulgent smile. “Tell me—what makes him so special?”

“He’s my soulmate, Steve.” Which couldn’t possibly be true because the Asset already had a soulmate.

The Asset belonged to the Captain, and had for months now. The Captain, who held him close and was almost kind, who fed him full meals and let him sleep in his bed. Who touched him hard but kissed him softly sometimes and called him Bucky when he did. 

“You’re both my soulmates,” the Captain remarked, tilting his head to the side with a resigned shrug of one shoulder. “Do better, Tony. Come on, you know you can do better.”

“We’re not your soulmates,” Tony whispered from the confines of the Asset’s arms.

The Captain pushed back from the table and crossed the concrete to lean over him. Wrapping his fingers around Tony’s throat, the Captain tilted his face up.

The Captain’s other hand ran through Tony’s hair, soft in comparison to the vice around his throat. Tony’s eyes went wide and panicked and he jerked his head back, smacking it against the crevice where the arm meets the Asset’s shoulder. 

The Asset grunted but kept him still as the Captain looked down at Tony’s ruined, swollen wrist and then deliberately dragged his fingers across it even as Tony whimpered and thrashed in the Asset’s arms. “Please, please don’t!” 

A phantom pain flared to life in the Asset’s non-existent left arm. It was gone as quick as it had come, but he couldn’t help but glance down in surprise. A coincidence—maintenance must be required. 

“But you are, Tony. We’re meant to be together, all three of us. Don’t you see that?”

“I used to think, maybe someday, you and I would—” Tony broke off and shook his head, the thought dying on his lips. “I thought you were a good man once. What was so horrible that you had to turn to this, huh, Cap?”

To the Asset’s surprise, the Captain gave a sad smile and offered him an answer. “It wasn’t all so horrible, Tony. The standard torture—you know the drill, I’m sure. That went on for a while, but my body healed quickly and eventually it must’ve gotten tiresome. I’m no stranger to pain; it was never going to be about pain.” The Captain paused, contemplative. “Although the blood loss trick was a creative one, I have to admit.”

Tony sucked in a breath and went still.

“Do you know how much blood the human body can lose before it dies, Tony? About two thirds of the volume. I suppose you can imagine how HYDRA figured out they could drain me almost dry and even then I’d still survive. It was almost as cold as being under the ice, and then the regeneration started—every blood cell filling out under my skin.” The Captain paused, rolling his shoulders back and crossing his arms over his chest so the uniform pulled taunt and flat over his pectorals. “I wonder if you could possibly know what it’s like to be so _empty_.”

“Steve I—”

“No, listen. You asked, right? It wasn’t the torture that changed anything, though it certainly helped. You have to understand that HYDRA is only a matter of time. I did this for _you_. You and Bucky. I’d rather be here, keeping you both safe, than letting you die in some unwinnable war.”

“They said they’d kill us, then?” Tony demanded, and the Asset wondered if that was the only acceptable answer for Tony. Even he had to understand it was never that simple. 

They had tortured the Captain with images and delusions for weeks. Sounds and scents were used to contort his mind and alter his perception. Reality blurred into fantasy and fantasy blurred into nightmare until there was only HYDRA. 

“In so many words, I suppose.”

“But we’re here, now, Steve,” Tony pointed out. “We could go, all of us, _together_. We could figure this out. We could—We could be happy.”

To the Asset’s surprise, the Captain gave a wistful smile, something sad clouding over his pale blue eyes. He turned Tony’s broken wrist over gently in his hand until the soulmark was on display. “Maybe if things had been different.”

Tony stiffened, a marginal movement that had the Asset bracing for a struggle, but none came. “What if we could, Steve? Think about it.”

“What?”

“Have that. Be together, like we both thought. With J-Bucky. We could go back. The Avengers would help us, help you and Bucky with whatever’s happened to you. I’d find him the best doctors, Steve. And we could all be together, like we’re meant to be.”

The Captain shook his head, eyes narrowing. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” Tony urged, and something strange tickled at the back of the Asset’s mind. A strange urge to escape, to flee and take Tony with him blossomed. But escape resulted in extreme discipline and the Asset was programmed to comply.

“Do you know what it’s like to be truly alone, Tony?” The Asset knew a thing or two about that. “What it’s like to do what’s necessary, what’s _right_? To give your life for what you believe in? To almost give it again and to _still_ be completely alone? Some might even say I was made to be alone.”

Steve turned over two spotless wrists.

“You weren’t alone, Steve, and you wouldn’t have to be lonely ever again. Please, let’s go. Together, all of us. I promise you’ll never be lonely again.”

“You don’t mean that,”

The Asset blinked. 

The statement was soft, punctuated with a quiet sort of hope and the Captain’s eyes were wide as if he were searching for salvation, reluctant but willing. For a moment, he scanned Tony’s face, looking for something unknown to the Asset.

When he leaned in, a palm on the side of Tony’s face, lips a hairbreadth away, Tony flinched back and the Captain’s face fell.

The Captain sighed, dragging his knuckles along Tony’s face, and then the Asset’s, before he turned away and slammed his curled fist down sharply on the table. “Pretty words, Stark. That’s all they are.”

Tony’s head dropped back against his shoulder and the Asset stole a peek of his face. Defeat was scrawled across his features, his mouth tight and his eyes radiating hopelessness and uncontainable sadness. It was almost like looking into a mirror.

When Tony caught him looking, the Asset’s gaze snapped away. “It’s okay, James. It’s alright.” 

The Captain looked over Tony’s shoulder and made eye contact with the Asset. His lips curled back into a smile that was all grimace and distaste, like he smelled something sour and was biting down on a secret all at once.

“You know what Bucky is now, don’t you? How could you possibly want him like this?”

“This isn’t who he is. I’ve seen who he is.” Tony struggled against his bonds. “It’s not James holding me down right now. He’s still with me, Steve. He’s with me right now and I know that must be killing you. You’ll never get to have this. You’ll never have what we have; never feel what I can feel.”

The Captain shrugged, brushed an errant hair off Tony’s face again, and let his fingers trail down along Tony’s chest.

Dark bruises littered Tony’s ribs, darkening into an ugly purple, almost black, at his hips. The Asset has a vague memory of how they came to be there, a fleeting image of his own metal hand pressing into Tony’s waist where the marks are the darkest.

Glancing up, the Captain locked eyes with Tony. “He killed your parents, you know.”

Tony went completely still in the Asset’s arms.

“You’re lying.”

“Bucky,” the Captain crooned, almost as if he were making conversation over a meal, cool and collected, and the Asset felt cold sweat break out along Tony’s back. A second later, the droplets start to roll down, trapped between Tony’s back and the Asset’s bare chest. “Mission report, December 16th, 1991. And hell, why don’t you give him a little treat while you tell us, hm?” The Captain paused; a dark shadow crept across his brow as he smiled. “Get him off, won’t you, sweetheart?”

The Asset drew a breath and released his grip on Tony’s arm, reaching for the button on Tony’s pants, pushing them over his hips and down around his ankles. The boxers underneath followed, and Tony’s limp cock hung between his thighs, warm and small in the Asset’s palm.

Even during his own induction to HYDRA, they had never put the Asset through this. Brutality, yes, but in a detached way meant only to break him through a calculated and methodical system. The Captain’s cruelty was almost hauntingly beautiful, the way he worked to possess and destroy simultaneously. Intimate.

“James, it’s okay,” Tony whispered, even as he started to shake, his head rolling side to side in miniscule motions, eyes squeezed shut. “It’s alright, James. Don’t worry. I know.”

“Shut up, Tony,” the Captain snapped. “Bucky, hold on. Let’s make him more comfortable.”

“Yes, sir.”

With a come-hither gesture from the Captain, the Asset stood and readjusted Tony on the chair, taking the offered handcuffs and locking his good wrist to the slats across the seatback. The Captain settled back in his chair, legs spread in a lazy sprawl. 

“Continue.”

“Monday, December 16th, 1991. Targets: Stark, Howard Anthony Walter. Stark, Maria Collins Carbonell.”

As he spoke, the Asset wrapped his flesh hand around Tony’s cock and started to stroke him—first, with small jerks of his fist, and then tightening around the head, forcing just enough pleasure from him that Tony’s cock could lengthen in the Asset’s palm, growing harder with each swipe across the tip.

“Mission parameters, neutralize threat by any means necessary. Secure transported cargo. Contents: super-soldier serum.”

“James. It’s not you, I know it’s not. It’s okay,” Tony was mumbling, eyes closed and head thrown back against the chair.

The Asset gave him a curious look, then glanced over his shoulder at the Captain for further instructions. The Captain’s eyes were heavy and relaxed, cool as stone, and though his hand played over the bulge between his thighs, he made no move to unbutton his pants. 

“Tony, that’s enough. I know it’s tough, sweetheart, but there can’t be any more secrets between us. You need to know.”

“Fuck you, Cap. Fuck you.”

The Captain sighed. “Hit him, Bucky. Whenever you hear the name James. Until he understands.”

The Asset nodded once and resumed his task, tightening his grip as Tony’s erection started to wilt in his hands. With renewed effort, he slid his metal fingers down and pressed behind Tony’s balls, making him jerk and squirm in his seat, but there was nowhere else to go.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Tony chanted, over and over like a prayer.

“Use your mouth on him a little, Buck. He likes that,” the Captain ordered and the Asset complied, leaning in to take Tony’s cock into his mouth. 

The tip leaked bitter fluid and the Asset licked at the slit, drawing what he could from Tony’s body. He hollowed his lips, sucking harder, gripping Tony’s cock at the base to keep him still as Tony twitched. For whatever reason, Tony seemed to hold back from thrusting up into his mouth, even as his cock hardened and wept, responding to the long caresses of the Asset’s tongue.

“James—”

The Asset pulled back and cocked his head at Tony, waiting until his eyes snapped open to stare with wide, horrified shock. Prey eyes.

 _Crack_.

The Asset slapped him hard across the face with the metal hand and Tony cried out, a mark appearing on his skin before the Asset had even bent his head again. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and Tony started to sob, begging and pleading between whispers of _it’s okay_ and _it’s not you_ , over and over.

“Mission successful, 1902hrs. Super-soldier serum obtained.” The Asset recited, leaning back in to suck Tony’s cock back into his mouth, taking him in deep and swallowing around his length. Tony’s hips stuttered upward as if he couldn’t help himself, seeking refuge in the hollow of the Asset’s throat. The Asset already knew he was good at this, his handlers and the Captain had taught him well.

“That’s beautiful, Bucky. Just beautiful. Enough now. Finish the report.”

The heavy sound of the Captain’s breathing, interspersed with a steady stream of sweet praise and the occasional expletive, was reward enough. The Asset wondered if the Captain was getting off on this and if he might be permitted to assist him when he had finished the present task.

“You’re a good man, James, I know you are,” Tony’s voice was little more than a whisper.

 _Crack_.

A bone shattered beneath his hand, the delicate blood vessels in and around Tony’s eye exploding as red bled into white. The Asset grunted as his hand made impact, the blow echoing across his own face. 

It couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Give him the end when he comes,” the Captain ordered.

And so the Asset waited, spitting into his fist when the slide started to chafe, fondling and squeezing Tony’s balls, pressing into his perineum with his fingers and then his knuckles. When his thighs started to tremble, the Asset knew Tony was close, and could hear the rapid breathing of the Captain at his back.

“Howard Stark, terminated. Blunt force trauma.”

The first spurt of come erupted from the tip of Tony’s cock and the Asset set his shoulders, gripping tighter. Tony sobbed, begged. Tears tracked a steady stream down his face and along the taunt muscles of his neck, every part of him straining away from the Asset.

But he was coming, the orgasm washing over him even as he cried.

“Maria Stark, terminated. Asphyxiation.”

Tony screamed, a desperate, horrifying wail and the Asset shuddered against his programming. Hostages, if Tony counted as such, never responded like this. 

Nausea, a foreign sensation, rolled through the Asset’s belly without permission.

“ _Fuck_ ,” the Captain grunted, and when the Asset turned, he saw the Captain’s face, open and amazed. Awed. “Now we can really be together. No more secrets, no more barriers.”

“You won’t ever be happy like this, Cap,” Tony sneered, an almost laughable expression under the tears that ran down over his ruined cheek. 

The Asset swallowed hard when the Captain chuckled. “Don’t you understand, Tony? I’d think that you, of all people…” The Captain sighed, shaking his head. “Happiness is relative.”

Then, even as Tony’s lung clawed for air, his chest heaving under the Asset’s hand, he looked down and met the Asset’s eye. Tony choked lightly on nothing, then spoke in a broken whisper: “Not you, James. Never.”

 _Crack_.

Tony didn’t move again after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings
> 
> This chapter contains triggers for the following:  
> 1) Psychological Torture – Steve requires the Asset to do something particularly heinous to Tony regarding the death of his parents including a non-consensual sexual act.  
> 2) Graphic Violence – A graphic depiction of beating and a broken cheek bone eventually resulting in unconsciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

Things went on at the same pace for the next three days, but something was changing in the Asset’s mind. 

It started with flashes of feelings he hadn’t experienced before, things that made the hair rise on his arms and left his stomach full of lead bricks that dragged against cement. Then came the memories that didn’t belong to him—or, at least, he didn’t think they belonged to him.

It was hard to say, when the memories he did possess were scrambled puzzle pieces dropped down the stairs, no picture in sight. The most frequent memory was the image of a man with dark black skin, his face disapproving but his arms wrapped around him in a tight, warm hug. It might have been comforting to the Asset—Bucky, Steve wanted him to be _Bucky_ —if it wasn’t terrifying.

Bucky had requested maintenance on the second day, but when he’d met with the HYDRA technicians, the only offered solution had been the Chair. Steve refused that treatment, assuring Bucky that he was fine and there was nothing to worry about.

Tony became a constant presence that he resented, occupying all of Steve’s time. Tony refused to give over, holding tight to a resolve Bucky hadn’t seen in decades.

No matter what they did to him, Tony refused to break.

At night, Tony was silent, one ankle chained to the bed as he lay there on his back on Steve’s left, Bucky on Steve’s right, breathing steadily but rarely sleeping.

Tonight, something had taken Steve away and Tony was trying his antics again.

“James,” Tony started, “please talk to me.”

“Not James.” Bucky grunted, refusing to look at him. Something in Bucky’s protocols were unravelling and he was a ship, floating aimlessly in the ocean with Steve’s orders calling out to him like a siren’s song. He didn’t _want_ to hit Tony, not again, and for now, the Captain wasn’t there to know any different. “Bucky.”

“Tell me how to undo the words. There has to be a way.” Tony propped himself up against the back of the bed with some effort. His wrist was still bound across his chest, and the purple-black bruise where Bucky had shattered his cheekbone stood out from the rest of his face. 

Only today had the swelling started to go down around his eye.

“Stop. I won’t discuss this with you.”

Tony made a sound of disgust, waving a hand towards the door. “Then why don’t you just go? Clearly, you’re free to.”

It was far from the truth. “There will be punishment for disobeying orders.”

And the orders had been to remain, ensure Tony remained, and to sleep. So Bucky would stay, and Tony would be silent to allow for sleep.

“I doubt there’s much more Steve can do, or force you to do, to me that hasn’t been done already.”

“You are naïve.”

“You can’t feel me, in your mind? Not even a little?” Tony demanded, voice accusing with an underline of uncertainty. Doubt and fear danced behind Tony’s eyes and Bucky frowned.

“What?”

“The soulbond?”

“Steve is my soulmate.”

“James. Would you at least look at me when I’m speaking to you? Jesus, you HYDRA goons are rude, aren’t you? No one ever teach you basic manners?” Bucky redirected a begrudging gaze towards him and Tony hesitated, seeming caught off guard that Bucky had humoured his ridiculous request. “I’m your soulmate, and you’re mine. Do you hear Steve in your head? Feel him? No? I didn’t think so. Because he’s not your fucking soulmate. He’s your captor.”

“I—” Bucky broke off, uncertain.

He frowned, running this new information through his mind, protocols and programming rejecting the new data. Steve was his soulmate. Steve was the best thing that had happened to him in seventy years. Steve kept him safe and let him sleep in his bed and never put him back in the Chair and—

“You’re remembering more. I can see it. I wonder how long before the words wear off? How long until the memories all come back?”

A flash of the man again, this time laughing as he soared through the air in a giant metal suit.

“What’s a Rhodey?” Bucky blurted before he could stop himself, immediately regretting it when a look of relieved surprise crossed Tony’s face.

“Who, not what. James Rhodes. My best friend. Skinny fella, kinda frowny? Flies around in a big metal suit that looks like mine? Yeah, ‘cause he stole it. Borrowed, he says, but he’s a liar. He’s family though, what can you do?” Then Tony grinned, and Bucky thought this may have been the first time he’d seen Tony smile. It was a beautiful thing. “That proves it though! You have my memories! You can’t deny it, James. We’re soulmates. You have to believe me. Please.”

The desperate look in his eyes was back and Bucky wanted to look away. Something kept him rooted in place, the depth behind Tony’s warm brown eyes.

“Stop. Wait. No!” 

Pain erupted behind his eyes and suddenly Bucky felt like he might be sick. Too much input streamed across his consciousness, and it was _too much, it was too much and too fast and his brain was going to explode, was going to turn to water in his skull and drip out of his ears_ —

“Stop. _Fuck_.” He pressed his fingers into his eyelids.

“Okay, shh, you’re alright. James, it’s okay.”

“Stop _fucking_ calling me that!” Bucky shouted, voice echoing off the walls. He tangled his fists into his hair, pressing them hard down over his ears and trying to drown out all the noise. So much noise. Too many memories rushed forward, overwhelming him with feelings and thoughts that couldn’t possibly belong to him. 

Tony sat quiet and still for a long while. The pounding receded, but nothing felt any better.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” Bucky whispered, voice too soft and fearful, foreign, as if it belonged to someone else.

Tony shifted closer and Bucky froze. One hand inched across the bed towards him and slowly wrapped around Bucky’s fingers, squeezing in a way that could have been reassuring if the world wasn’t falling to pieces around him. 

Who was he? What was happening, and who was this man?

_You shot him out of the sky. You’re the reason he’s here. Selfish. Selfish. Monster._

“I’m going to let him have me. If he’ll undo whatever he’s done to you—if he’ll bring you _back_ —I’ll give him what he wants and eventually someone will come for us. I know they’re coming for us, J—” Tony pressed his lips together in a thin line. 

Swallowing around the foul saliva in his mouth, Bucky looked down at their fingers, tangled together against the cool black sheets and tried to figure out what to say. No one ever came. Not for seventy years. It was a fool’s dream. 

And yet Bucky didn’t have the heart to dash it away.

When no response came, he gave Tony a helpless look and Tony lifted his hand to Bucky’s face, his touch soft and comforting.

 _Tony has a lot of pillows._ Why did Bucky know that? Why did it make him want to sob?

“It won’t be enough,” Bucky said finally. He turned away and didn’t look back, listening to the quiet hitching of Tony’s breath as he eventually gave up and drifted off to sleep. 

* * *

The next morning, Bucky went about his duties with the same diligent attention, completing his perimeter checks and required maintenance on his weapons. All the while, he ignored the gnawing questions in the back of his mind and the ever-present existence of something, _someone,_ else.

There was something soothing about disassembling and cleaning each internal mechanism, running a cloth over metal with purposeful strokes. The motions were hypnotizing, quieting the confusion bubbling over in his mind. 

As he worked at the side table in the bedroom, Steve sat in the bed with a tablet in his lap. Tony was chained down at his side, naked save for the sheet slung low across his hips. All was quiet as the ticking of the clock and the mechanical whir of Bucky’s arm created an abysmal melody until Tony broke the silence.

“Deactivate him and I’ll do what you want.”

“What?” Steve sounded as incredulous as Bucky felt, setting the tablet aside and turning to give Tony his full attention.

“You heard me.”

“What was it you said to me that first day, Tony? That I was a coward? I knew it was only a matter of time, but even I thought you’d hold out longer than this.” Steve paused, reaching out to stroke a hand across Tony’s sternum, veering left over his bruised nipple even as Tony flinched away. “If I were to agree, then what?”

“Whatever you want.”

“We’d need to properly program you. It’s not an easy process. It’ll hurt.”

 _No_. Steve couldn’t. Bucky wouldn’t let them. 

The desire to protect Tony made him shiver. Anything to prevent him from going to the Chair. As much as he resented Tony’s presence, he wouldn’t wish that on another living soul for as long as there was breath in his body.

“Whatever you want.” Tony repeated, voice bland.

“Tony—” Bucky broke off as two pairs of eyes turned towards him. 

Steve cocked a brow, encouraging him to go on, but he stayed silent. A streak of jealousy coursed through him at odds with a fierce fire of determination in the back of his mind. Tony threatened everything that he had built here, all the reprieve the Captain had offered him. 

Tony was a threat.

Except Tony was—Tony was someone important. Bucky would never let him go willingly to the Chair. Would he?

“What’s that, Buck? Nothing? Then keep your mouth shut. Not another word.” The warm growl of an order seeped into his protocols and Bucky turned back to his weapons, fingers working oil into the gears. “It’s hard seeing you like this, you know. All the fight gone out of you. He must mean a lot to you.”

“You’ll never understand what we are to each other,” Tony said.

Steve ignored the jab. “A deal, then. One Asset for another.”

“A deal.”

The conversation lapsed into silence and Bucky tried not to picture Tony in his Chair. 

Before his eyes, Tony’s nude body was held down, metal biting into flesh and electricity crackling against his skull as Tony closed his eyes and tried to fight. The same screaming wails from days prior exploded in his ears and, for a second it was him, back in that Chair.

He shook the memory away, shoving a cartridge back into his rifle with a satisfying click.

“Steve,” Tony said, voice soft and hesitant. Steve glanced down, eyebrow cocked. “Why did it have to be this way?”

Steve made a disgruntled noise and looked away, disgusted. “Don’t try to appeal to my humanity again, Tony. We’ve just reached an understanding. Let that be enough.”

“I think you owe me this much. After what we were to each other—”

“And what was that?” Steve demanded, eyes twinkling with a hurt rage. “What were we?”

Tony’s head fell back against the pillow, running a hand over his face before propping himself up on his elbows. He kept his eyes trained on the ceiling, blinking steadily. “I was in love with you. I don’t know if you knew that, but I was.”

Steve huffed a humourless breath.

“I _was_ , Steve. I know we fought, but people fight. We always have. Maybe we disagreed more than the average couple, I’ll give you that, but I thought things were going okay.” Tony sighed, forehead knitting together. “Is it because I didn’t come for you? Did you give up on me? Because I swear, Steve, I _swear_ , I was searching for you every day. I barely slept, I—”

“Be honest, Tony. We were never going to work out and you know it. It was only a matter of time.”

“I didn’t know it! Jesus Christ, Steve, I’d been half in love with you for years. Since I was a teenager. You know what Howard used to tell me? He’d say how ridiculous it was, that I, of all people, had a soulmark when you hadn’t. I think he meant for it to make me something better than I am, because that’s good old dad for you, but… I used to think about you. How good you were. How someone like that deserved the best soulmate there was.” Tony sighed, dragging his hand across his face and making the chains rattle. “All I’m saying is it didn’t have to be like this.” 

“You never would have stayed after Bucky,” Steve challenged, but even from across the room Bucky could see the uncertainty blurring across Steve’s face. 

It was so contrary to what he’d come to know about the Captain, and for a second, Bucky wondered if this was what Captain America looked like once. All feather-down softness, just desperate to be loved. 

A glimmer of the pipsqueak of a man Bucky knew from decades ago surfaced, bright blue eyes and an artist’s hands as he traced the lines of Bucky’s face in charcoal. 

A spectre of something Captain HYDRA had been once.

“You never gave me a chance! You never gave me a chance for any of this!” Tony shouted into the room, slamming his fist down on the bed. He struggled to right himself on the mattress, tugging the sheet up to cover what he could.

The fine hairs on Tony’s arms were raised, gooseflesh appearing in the cold air and a fear that didn’t belong to him nudged at the back of Bucky’s mind. 

“I know you, Tony—”

“You don’t. You don’t know me at all. I would have loved you both. We would have made room for you, for him, whatever! Hell, as if it would have been a _hardship_. James loved you for years, even I know that. I might be his soulmate, but you could have been ours, too.”

Steve’s face splintered, hurt and disbelief at war with a gut-wrenching longing.

“I loved Pepper for years before you, Steve, and she wasn’t my soulmate. You think that just because we don’t all have the same stupid picture burned into our skin that we can’t love each other?” Tony’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat, rough and angry. “You didn’t even give me a chance.” 

“I don’t believe you,” Steve said, voice faint and breathless.

“You’ve never had any faith in me. Is this just because you want to make the decisions for me? Can’t trust Tony Stark to make the right call, right? And now it’s too late. Now we’re—we’re _this_ ,” Tony spat, gesturing wildly between the three of them.

“I didn’t know—” 

“How long did you know about James and me, huh? How long did you know that my soulmate was out there, and you just let me go on believing—” Tony broke off as tears threatened to steal his resolve. 

The same raw feeling rubbed at the back of Bucky’s throat, his eyes going fuzzy and unfocused. Tony was spinning a fairytale, that was all. It had to be.

“Tony, I swear I didn’t know how you felt.” Steve was backtracking and Bucky didn’t know what to make of that. The man sitting in the bed was suddenly a stranger. “Sure, I knew you were soulmates, but can you really blame me? If you’d known—”

“Is that what this is all about? You were too afraid? So HYDRA gives you a chance to have everything you want and you run for the hills even if it’s a disgusting joke of the real thing? We could’ve gotten James out, together. We could have had _everything_.”

“I still want that!” Steve shouted, and Tony flinched back, shaking. He swallowed and started to shake his head, disbelief flickering across his face. 

“Then why did you ruin it?” The words were out of Tony’s mouth before Bucky could stop him. 

There was a moment, a brief flicker of hope, but Tony had taken it a step too far. Bucky watched Steve’s jaw lock, the thick vein that ran the length of his throat becoming more pronounced. 

In that moment, any prospect of freedom left in Bucky’s chest marched off to die. 

For a second he thought Tony might’ve convinced Steve and appealed to that little sliver of goodness that might still linger around the Captain’s feet. But it was gone with the mention of fear and weakness, chased away by a fierce determination that had been there since the day they had ordered Bucky into the Captain’s office and proclaimed the Asset his. 

Tony wouldn’t have known it, wouldn’t have seen it, but in that exact moment he had dashed away the last of the redemption with the malice and challenge in his eyes. The last remaining strands of Captain America dropped into the fire and the blackened charcoal remains of Captain HYDRA emerged, staring down at Tony with a blank face and bleak eyes.

“You’re right, Tony,” Steve said, soft and chilling as he disappeared inside the armour of his pride. “I ruined it. And I’ll fix it the best way I know how.”

The conversation stopped abruptly and Steve got out of the bed. Tony glanced towards Bucky with wide eyes and Bucky shook his head. They watched as the Captain dressed in his black uniform, tossing the remaining pieces of Bucky’s clothing towards him to tug on over his underwear. Tony was left naked, fluids clinging to the hair between his legs and coating the green, healing bruises on his inner thighs.

 _Soiled_ , Bucky thought. _A pitiful sight_.

“Untie him,” Steve ordered, throwing open the door to the bedroom.

It was clear that Steve thrived off a very different form of humiliation when it came to Tony, because when Bucky went to loop the chain around his good wrist, Steve stopped him, tutting softly and directing him to loop the chain around his neck. A collar that Bucky could tug at if Tony refused to be led down the hallway. 

_An executioner’s march_ , Bucky realized, as Tony’s wide, almost-feral eyes took in the HYDRA agents milling about the bunker. Everyone else averted their eyes when Captain HYDRA stared down at them. Tony glared up at him with a defiance.

Together in silence, Steve led them to a room at the end of the hallway.

The Chair filled all of the space despite its unassuming and simple appearance. It was nothing more than twists of metal and electricity, the restraints concealed in the arms while the programming nodes hung limp from the seatback. 

A fine layer of dust had settled over the arms and Bucky resisted the urge to drag his finger through the mess, shivering. 

“I’ll take it from here, Bucky,” Steve ordered, stretching out his hand for the length of the chain.

Tony’s lip curled back across his teeth. “Is this completely necessary?”

With a sharp yank of the chain, Tony went sprawling forward, almost smacking his jaw on the floor where he couldn’t fully catch himself with one arm. His body was torn between protecting his injured wrist and bracing his fall, failing to do either.

“Fuck,” Tony hissed, gripping his right arm at the elbow. “You’re such a motherfucking sadist.”

“Watch the language, Tony.” Steve’s tone was almost amicable, like he was offering a friendly suggestion. “Have a seat, why don’t you? Best seat in the house. Well, I suppose that’s actually subjective. Bucky’s seat might be the best one.” Then Steve turned to Bucky. “Bring a chair over, Bucky. Set it there. Sit down, and don’t move.”

Moving like a robot, Bucky followed the orders.

Dread churned in his stomach. The bile in his mouth reminded him of the first time, how tangible the memory of sheer terror was even all these years later. Bucky could almost taste the rubber, and his mouth watered with horrible anticipation. 

Quiet, not daring to speak, Bucky sat in the chair, upright and rigid.

Tony spared him a look over his shoulder as he righted himself and approached with unsteady feet. He sat down of his own accord, recoiling from Steve’s hand when it was offered.

“We’ll need that arm, Tony.” Tony swallowed, tugging at the sling with trembling fingers until his arm was free, and set it on the armrest.

The restraints came up and locked into place with an unsettling _whirr_. Tony inhaled sharply, holding back what should’ve been a scream.

“Open.” Steve offered him the mouthguard and for a moment Bucky thought he might resist, might earn himself another blow across the face.

“Deactivate him. Now.”

Steve shrugged. “If you like.” He approached Bucky then, stroking a hand down his face to grip tight at the edge of his jaw. The Captain’s hands were so massive that Bucky’s chin fit easily in his palm, and he yanked Bucky’s face up. “When he screams, when he struggles, I want you to know that he’s doing this for you. This is your fault, Bucky. You brought him here, for us. Congratulations. Mission successful.”

Steve uttered a few guttural words in Russian and something exploded in the back of Bucky’s brain.

It was like his skull was splitting in two, right down the seam of his consciousness, and he struggled against Steve’s grip, whimpering as Steve deactivated his metal arm and locked the other one into place with a set of cuffs Bucky hadn’t even realized he had.

Sheer terror pummeled his senses and the barrage of memories came rushing back. It was brutal every time, but this was a new form of torture. He could remember Tony’s hands on him, his breath in his ear and the warm caress of his body as Bucky had violated him. All the soothing words Tony offered him sung in his mind, even when he didn’t deserve them, even when he had torn Tony’s body to shreds and held him down for Steve’s enjoyment. Even when he shattered his face. 

His beautiful, handsome face.

 _Oh, God_. “Tony!”

“James!”

The mouthguard was shoved roughly into his mouth and Tony gagged and coughed around the intrusion. There were daggers in his eyes but Steve ignored him, smiling down at him as he leaned in closer. Tony struggled as if there was anywhere else to go.

He’d already traded his freedom. For Bucky. Even after everything else.

“I want you both to remember this moment. The moment when we become one. We’ll never have to be alone again. No one will challenge us. With HYDRA at our backs, we’ll be unstoppable. We’ll usher in a new era. Peace for our time, and we’ll do it together.”

He leaned down and kissed Tony softly, mouth covering his own over the mouthguard.

“You’re so good to us, Tony,” Steve whispered against the rubber. “Thank you for this.”

“It’s okay, Tony,” Bucky whispered. “It’s going to be okay.”

Tears threatened to spill over in Tony’s eyes, and Bucky forced himself to watch this time, to be with him until the end. 

_It’s your fault he’s here. It’s your fault he’s in the Chair to begin with_. _Monster_.

Steve stepped around the control panel and flicked a few of the switches.

Horrified, Bucky watched as the headguard sprang forward and sealed into place. Tony’s chest started heaving before the metal even touched him, naked chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as the hyperventilating started. He closed his eyes, refusing to meet Bucky’s gaze even as Bucky strained towards him, words disappearing under the hum of the mechanisms. 

Tony screamed.

His body jolted in the Chair, straining against the restraints as the current coursed through his body, limbs shaking of their own accord. The corded muscles in his throat went taut with pain and he screamed again.

Over and over Tony wailed, jerking and twisting away from the onslaught of electricity as a livewire touching his brain at its very core. And Bucky knew, screaming with him, because he’d been there so many times himself, and because the current coursed through his mind, too, dulled through the bond but still vicious in its assault.

Bucky cried out for Steve to stop, straining against the restraint, slamming his fist against the part of his chair he could reach over and over again, reciting Tony’s name like the last prayer he’d ever offer. When his voice went hoarse and the tears flowed freely, Bucky switched to apologies, desperate pleas for forgiveness. 

The electricity peaked and dropped to the low dull as the programming set in, and Tony’s body shivered and twitched in the seat. His screams turned to whimpers and muffled pleading behind the mouthguard.

“That’s enough,” Steve said quietly, stepping up to Bucky’s left. He settled one hand over his shoulder, curling his fingers into the divot where scarred flesh met metal, and wrapped the other around his mouth. “Quiet, now. Just watch. He gave up for you, after all. You’ll never be able to make it up to him, not after this—but don’t worry, Buck. I’ll look after you both.”

Steve leaned in and pressed his lips to Bucky’s temple, a soft kiss, punctuated by the renewed shriek of pain ripping free from Tony’s chest.

“I love you, Bucky.”

He sobbed, the tears flowing steadily down his face, tearing his eyes away from Tony’s spasming body. But even trained on the floor, at the edge of his field of vision, he could still see his feet, bare and bruised, twisting and scrambling against the floor.

The programming went on for hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings
> 
> This chapter contains triggers for the following:  
> 1) Physical Torture – Tony is forced into the Chair.


	5. Epilogue

Steve sat at his desk, halfway through the burden that was his mountain of paperwork. A funny thing, the menial task of completing documentation and mission reports, something he had expected to leave behind after the Avengers. But it was no trouble; paperwork had never been so easy or so comfortable. Now, these were days to be cherished, just the solitude of his office and the comfort of his partners by his side. 

Across the room, Tony was poised on the edge of the sofa, tanned skin glowing in the soft lighting. He was completely silent, the gag stuffed deep into his mouth keeping him quiet as a steady stream of drool ran down his chin. The mountain of plush pillows and soft, luxurious blankets rose up to welcome him into their embrace in the event that Steve required his services—assuming Steve wouldn’t want to make a mess of his desk, of course. 

Things were always so gray and cold in the HYDRA bunkers, but Steve had changed that. Captain HYDRA could be a cold and cruel man and still appreciate the warmth and softness of the finer things in life. God knew Tony enjoyed them, and Bucky had never had much of an opportunity until now. 

Steve shifted in his chair, spreading his legs wider to accommodate Bucky between his thighs.

Beneath the table, Bucky sat on folded knees with his arms laid across Steve’s lap. His chin rested on the curve of his arm and, in his mouth, Steve’s cock was warming and leisurely thickening out.

Everything was exactly as it was supposed to be.

“Good boys,” Steve praised, his tone distracted as he scratched his pen across a series of requisition forms. “I knew you’d see it my way. And look at us now, together, exactly how it always should have been.”

Soulmates were a funny thing, and Steve had to assume that whatever Big Man lived above the clouds had simply made an error with him. Maybe humans weren’t the only imperfect beings in the world, because Steve had given the world everything and had been given nothing in return.

He had been Captain America—had fought tooth and nail to defend his country, survived living under the ice for seventy years, only to be brought back to save millions upon millions of souls a second time.

And yet—

And yet the universe had swindled him out of a mark.

No matter. HYDRA had shown him the way. HYDRA had shown him the life he deserved.

The universe hadn’t given him his soulmates, but Steve had been smarter than that. Steve had known since Bucky had taken care of him when he was ill, and how Tony had held his hand and led him into the new century, that they were both meant to be his. And he was theirs. 

Tony’s lies tickled at the back of his mind, hinting at a life that could have been if things were perfect and everything had fallen into place—but there was no use in fantasizing. Steve had known Tony long enough now to know that Steve would have been little more than a placeholder. The second his soulmate walked into his life, Tony would have been gone, leaving Steve and taking Bucky away in the same moment. 

Steve knew he’d done the right thing. Now, none of them would ever be alone again.

“My soulmates,” Steve whispered, reaching underneath the desk and sliding his fingers through Bucky’s hair. On the couch, Tony shuddered and abruptly jerked to the side.

Tony knew better than that. He knew not to let that damned connection between them show.

No amount of programming had been able to change the connection, and even as his soulmates lived in this delicate balance of authenticity and compliance, Steve was aware of its presence. 

That didn’t mean he had to acknowledge it.

Steve rolled his hips, giving a vicious thrust deep into the back of Bucky’s throat and forcing him to gasp for air around the now thick girth of his cock. Bucky gave a harsh gag and pitched forward without the ability to balance himself. Across the room, Tony mimicked a softer choke but this time he remained still. 

Perfectly still, exactly as Steve had ordered.

“Good boy,” Steve repeated. “No need for punishment this time.”

Something hot and wet dripped onto his thigh and Steve glanced down again, identifying the wetness as the beginning of a stream of tears from the corners of Bucky’s eyes. Such a sweet man, basking in the pleasure Steve had to offer him. Steve rolled his hips once more, dropping his hand to Bucky’s cheek to feel the muscles of his jaw work to accommodate Steve’s length, and he sighed.

As he returned to his paperwork, he considered the new reports detailing how the Avengers were on the move. A week ago a press release had come out: Captain America assumed dead, Iron Man assumed captured by HYDRA. The Avengers had been closing in on their trail for weeks, as close as a few hundred miles away when they’d moved on the last abandoned bunker to the west.

There had been a moment when Steve had found himself lingering in bitterness. His team—no, the team—had given up. They’d abandoned all hope he was alive and called off the search and he’d caught himself playing the fool when he wondered how they could do that to him after everything. 

HYDRA had been right again; the Avengers would never have come for him and eventually, everyone would give up on him. He had belonged with HYDRA since the beginning and the betrayal only solidified his purpose, now. 

When Avengers arrived, he would be ready. Tony and Bucky would be perfect and the last obstacle would be cleared from their path. It wouldn’t be long before Steve and his soulmates would be at peace with a new world at their fingertips, to mould and shape into anything their hearts desired. 

The Avengers were a cunning adversary, Steve knew. But with his tactical mind, Bucky’s skill, and Tony’s new designs almost complete, Steve doubted they had anything to fear. Even still, he resolved himself to protecting his soulmates; keeping them safe had become the highest priority.

“Hail HYDRA,” Steve said, just to hear the response.

Tony lifted his eyes off the couch, almost completely black and trained over Steve’s shoulder. His mouth moved around the gag, perfunctory and automatic, a garbled mess of syllables that Steve had come to know well.

 _Hail HYDRA_.

Steve sighed. He would never have to be alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings
> 
> This chapter contains triggers for the following:  
> 1) Choking – Via non-consensual cockwarming.

**Author's Note:**

> Well. I hope you enjoyed the story.
> 
> Do you think you need a fix-it now?
> 
> If you've a fan of dark, psychological work or gut-wrenching angst, come hangout with us in the [SteveTony Darkfest Discord Server](https://discord.com/invite/X9xaRPT) and check out the Sad Secret Santa event! Write with us!


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